Sonic the Hedgehog: Make America Great Again
by AmericaverseWarlord
Summary: Actions speak louder than words... and the barrel of a gun speaks loudest of all! Sonic the Hedgehog, a fearsome warrior who trusts only his instincts and his shotgun, fights alone after Americageddon to protect his star-spangled country. Will he be able to save America from the diabolical clutches of Communism, or will his quest for revenge ultimately destroy him?
1. After the Fall of America

_**(NOTE: This story is a sequel to Sonic the Hedgehog: Defender of America. I highly recommend that you read it first!)**_

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 **"Freedom ain't free.** **The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants." - Tupac Shakur**

 _The year is 2010. The United States of America as we know it has been destroyed._

 _Long ago, we looked upon a foreboding sky. The fifty-million year conflict between the Americans and Communists raged, destroying all life in its path. The forces of America lost the war and were annihilated in an apocalyptic bloodbath, a cataclysmic event that would later come to be known as "Americageddon." The final war may have ended, but for some, the real battle has only just begun._

 _In an age where the wicked forces of Marxism reign, there is one righteous patriot still alive and able to fight for American justice and freedom. His name is Sonic the Hedgehog, a man known by his enemies only as the Communist-Hunter._

 _Armed to the teeth and ready to avenge his fallen kinsmen, Sonic sets out alone on his Harley Davidson™ motorcycle to fight the cruel fate that his people have been dealt. This hedgehog will let nothing stop him, not even death itself, until he frees his enslaved country from the diabolical clutches of Communism and restores the Americaverse to its former glory._

 _This is the chronicle of this man's life, death, and the legacy he left behind. This is his story..._

The blinding neon lights of Neo-Detroit's capital city flooded Sonic's senses as he approached on the back of his motorcycle. Deafening horrorcore rap spewed from the speakers of this righteous American's Harley, reflecting Sonic's intense love for the Insane Clown Posse. Sonic the Hedgehog was a man of the lord.

Seeking to refuel after a long day of navigating through this Communist-occupied, hyper-industrialized wasteland, Sonic stopped at a nearby bar and dismounted from his metallic steed. As he opened the door, the distinct aroma of dank beer and spilt blood quickly assaulted his nose. Inside, Sonic was greeted by a crowd of drunken Communist soldiers harassing the patrons of the bar for their own twisted amusement.

The sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the room and was almost immediately drowned out by the raucous laughter that followed. "That'll show those American bastards for fucking with us! Take this one outside and leave him with the rest, he's starting to smell like shit," The leader of the Marxist thugs lowered his shotgun, waving for his men to remove the American corpse splayed out on the floor that he had just slain.

Sonic's spastic colon churned with disgust at the sight. This brutish hedgehog muscled his way through the crowd and took a seat near the counter. He then turned to the mortified bartender, emptied all of the shekels from his wallet, and pushed them in his direction.

"I'm probably gonna fuck this place up in a few minutes, so I guess I should buy something. Make yourself useful and get me a plate of chicken tendies, alright? The white meat kind. I don't want none of that other peasant shit," Sonic grumbled in a low voice. He kept his head forwards, trying to avoid making eye contact with the Communist soldiers he heard approaching from behind.

The leader of the thugs pulled up a stool and took a seat parallel to Sonic. He cocked his head to the side, gazing upon the hedgehog's impossibly statuesque muscles that were heavily scarred from decades of battle.

"That thing tattooed on your arm… it's an American flag, right? That's interesting, because I thought that those kinds of symbols were outlawed after the Ameripocalypse under the penalty of death. You wouldn't happen to be some kind of filthy American, would you?" The man asked, pointing his knurled fingers towards the tattoo of a bald eagle shining in glorious hues of red, white, and blue upon Sonic's left bicep.

The hedgehog ignored his charged words. Instead, he turned his gaze towards the waitress of the bar. "Hey, bitch! Where the hell are those goddamn chicken tendies I ordered?" He asked with a snarl, raising his guttural voice well above the din of the bar's patrons.

"Clearly, you must not have heard me the first time," The inbred, freedom-hating socialist placed his hand upon the hedgehog's shoulder and stared him right in the face. In a show of force, he removed his pocket knife and held it against Sonic's throat as he spoke, "This is Communist territory, ya hear? So will you play nice and leave quietly, or will my boys and I have to teach you to learn some respect?"

Sonic casually removed the joint from between his lips and blew a ring of smoke into the face of his assailant. "Sorry, I was too blazed out of my mind to pay any attention to what you just said. Did you want something from me?" He asked with a cool, composed smile.

The wicked Cultural Marxist and his men snarled at the sight of Sonic's unbridled patriotism, shunning the holy light of America like a slag shuns the poor. The Communist grabbed Sonic by the back of the head and forced his face to the table. He snarled, "I'm the one asking the questions right now, fuckface! We're _Che Guevara's_ soldiers, we rule this city! Do you even realize the situation you're in right now, you bourgeois piece of shit?"

Sonic raised his chin and laughed, unfazed by his enemies. "So, let me get this straight. You're all Communists, right? That's good to hear. Otherwise, I might have felt bad about doing _this!"_

Without a moment of hesitation, Sonic withdrew his Linoleum knife and stabbed it right through the opened palm of his aggressor and into the table. He drug his knife across the counter, splitting the Communist lieutenant's hand open right down the middle before placing the blade back in his pocket.

"Y-You goddamned capitalist baka! You're going to pay for that with your life, you shitty bastard!" The victim of this American's divine fuckrage howled with pain. He stumbled backwards and signaled for his comrades to step in with his uninjured hand. But before they could strike, Sonic reached into his trench coat and withdrew his dual machine guns, the preferred weapons of choice for any upright man of the cloth.

He opened fire without mercy, filling these depraved socialists with bullets and propelling them across the bar. This righteous, god-fearing patriot then threw back his entire shot glass of Jägermeister and chuckled, "Pssht, nothin' personal… _kid."_

Sonic tilted his head to the side, narrowly avoiding a bottle of beer hurled at him from the growing crowd of Communist soldiers pooling in from the streets of Neo-Detroit. "I'm gonna let you all in on a little secret. Do you know why I enjoy killing Commie bastards like you so much?" The fearless hedgehog spoke as he took a step towards his challengers, clutching his hard-earned tendies tightly between his fists.

Sonic reached into the guitar case he wore strapped on his back and removed an electric guitar of great power forged from polished obsidian and the menstrual blood of feudal archdaemons. Exploding in a visceral fuckrage of patriotic indignation, Sonic gracefully swung this mighty instrument of American ingenuity and sliced a great throng of his foes to ribbons. He chuckled, "It's because killing Communists really turns me on! _It's time to rock the fuck out!"_

Sonic rocked out to the black metal of the gods on his guitar as he charged ahead, viciously hacking apart every member of the Communist party foolish enough to stand in his way. "USA! USA! USA!" His wispy chest hair fluttered in the wind as his blood-soaked guitar came crashing down, shattering the skulls of the Marxist soldiers splayed out before him.

"Adam and Steve? Meet Smith and Wesson!" Sonic laughed. He mounted atop his Harley and drove in circles around the bar, opening fire with his machine guns and mowing down his fleeing opponents with ease. This righteous hedgehog violently thrashed his head to the beat, relishing this swath of genocidal violence with a fervor most patriotic.

Just as Sonic's saintly onslaught and furious pelvic thrusting ceased and all of his enemies had fallen, a new contingent of heavily-armed socialist forces surrounded the building. These wicked philistines raised their weapons and trained them towards the hedgehog's forehead, stopping him before he could charge back into the bloodbath.

Sonic spat cartilage upon the floor to convey his disgust as he gazed upon the twisted, misshapen face of the Marxist nobleman leading this wretched task force. The name of this amortal chieftain was _Che Guevara,_ a man known for his excessive cruelty on the battlefield and one of the ten Communist Underlords fighting to fill the power vacuum left behind after the death of the dark wizard, Karl Marx.

This unearthly Communist lord swung his signature weapon — a rusted saw blade attached to a chain that was stained red with the blood of Americans — and leapt in pursuit of his prey. Without any time to dodge, Sonic decided to use one of the brutalized Commie soldiers at his feet as a shield. The blade instantly severed the corpse in two, slicing a deep gash across Sonic's stomach in the process.

Before this gentlemanly patriotic warlord had any opportunity to dodge, Che unleashed a furious barrage of punches and kicks upon him. Sonic rolled across the ground in a puddle of his own blood and other unspeakable bodily fluids, badly beaten and barely able to stand.

El Che threw back his head and guffawed at the pitiable sight before him. This hater of all things good and American cracked a smug grin, "So, this is the legendary Communist-Hunter? The butcher of a thousand Marxist loins, the only man worthy enough to wield the holy electric guitar forged by George Washington millennia ago? How pathetic! You shall burn in the flames of capitalism just like the _Biker Brethren_ before you. Prostrate yourself before the heavenly might of Communism or die now and curse in vain!"

Before the Communist warlord could claim Sonic's blameless life, he was interrupted by the sound of an explosion coming from the distance. A hulking figure of star-spangled fuckferocity swaggered out from the inferno of the blast, standing still and unflinching as a downpour of Communist ichor and afterbirth rained down upon him from above.

His finely toned skin and flaxen hair shone bright in the light of the fire with an otherworldly beauty. In that instant, he tipped his velour fedora towards his niggardly foes and smiled. Blood began to erupt from his mouth, and he laughed. He laughed forever.

The star-spangled aura emanating from his bare chest and abs sent the Communist host into a frenzy of terror, denoting that this mysterious warrior was no mere child of mortal men. He beamed wide, revealing the golden grill emblazoned upon his teeth that had the phrase _"Can't Stump the Trump"_ chiseled into its surface.

"You're late, dicksleeve. Y'know, I could've slayed the fuck out of these guys without your help, Trump!" Sonic groused at his aloof partner, unwilling to admit that he had just saved him from certain doom.

 _Donald J. Trump_ tossed his designer scarf over his shoulder and shrugged, "I'm glad to see that you're still the same whack-ass motherfucker as ever, Sonic-kun. Now, how about we show these goddamn Commies how America rolls?" Sonic's comrade removed the latex glove from his pimp hand and set his entire arm ablaze with his mind, demonstrating his latent pyrokinetic skills.

Trump burned all of the Communist soldiers in the vicinity alive with a flick of his fingers, roasting them to a crisp at a temperature of 1488 degrees. Sonic rose to his feet and flicked the blood away from his chin, "Don't think I'm about to let you keep all this genocide to yourself, Trump. I came here to kill Communists and eat shit, _and I'm all outta shit!"_

Overcome with righteous indignation, Sonic hurled himself upon Che Guevara and sliced his throat open with a stroke of his guitar. El Che quivered with true, primal terror as he came face to face with his own mortality in the form of this avenger of American justice. "Are… are you an angel, or a demon?" He asked, far too paralyzed with fear to do anything else but speak.

"Nigga, does it even matter at this point? If you have to know n' shit, I guess you could say that I'm… _both!"_ Sonic tore his belt asunder, freeing his raging demon erection from its prison of denim. His pants dropped to his ankles and revealed his throbbing cyborg member that doubled as a shotgun, a killing machine of flaming fuckdeath that he christened "The Judgement Dick." The hedgehog cocked his cock and released his salvo of cleansing hellfire from his artificial genitals, utterly annihilating the Marxist lord and bringing an end to his reign of terror.

The streets are still and the final battle has ended. Over the streets, the white man's emblem is waving triumphant standards of a race reborn. _The wrath of the Communist-Hunter has struck again._

Sonic and Trump watched from a safe distance as their flames of destruction spread. The bar collapsed in on itself, leaving behind only a monument to the cruel judgement of the Communist-Hunter and a message of warning to his enemies. Sonic seemed unconcerned, spending his time by scribbling swastikas on his arm and shoving another fistful of chicken tendies down his throat.

"Same time next week, right? You bring the Communists, I'll bring the genocide," Donald Trump chuckled as he rose to his feet to stare up at the smog-filled sky. Sonic beat his fist against Trump's own as he walked off in the direction of the rising sun. _"Hell yeah, motherfucker."_

Lost in thought, Sonic took his guitar out of its case and began to pour his feelings into song. "Abe Lincoln, Michael Jordan, Charles Barkley, Guy Fieri, Harambe… I'm fighting this war in your memory. This is what you'd want me to do, right? I'm going to give you the justice you deserve. Since no one else can, I'll be the one to judge Communism for its crimes. I'm going to keep fighting as the Communist-Hunter until every last one of those red bastards drops dead. Even if it kills me, I'm going to _make America great again!"_


	2. Enter the Backstreet Boys

**SUGGESTED LISTENING: "HAIL THE NEW DAWN" BY SKREWDRIVER  
**

 _Sonic the Hedgehog walks a lonely road to protect our country and American freedoms... but what has become of the people in his life that he's left behind along the way?_ **  
**

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 ** _AGE 2004 B.A. (Before Americageddon)_**

"Brother Sonic, watch out!" Michael Jordan shouted over the uproar of the battlefield. This gentlemanly baller leapt into the sky with his Spalding basketball in-hand and came crashing down, shattering the skull of a Communist gunman before he could open fire.

Sonic the Hedgehog turned his head and let out a sigh of relief. Like himself, Michael Jordan was a fellow defender of the United States of America and one of Sonic's closest allies in battle.

Together, these two sweaty warriors were members of a right wing death squad known as the _"Biker Brethren",_ a fighting force assembled for the sole purpose of combating the growing armies of Communism. Such is a holy act.

Sonic embraced his American brother with a bare-chested hug and a smile, "Thanks for savin' my ass, Air Jordan. Y'know, you're pretty damn good at slaying the fuck out of these Commies. But not as good as me, of course!" He held his chainsaw-guitar high over his head and lunged, bisecting a Communist soldier right down the middle just to quench his bloodlust.

Accompanied by his fellow compatriots _Anne Frank, Garfield,_ and _Charles Barkley,_ Sonic hurled himself into the fray. The hedgehog proceeded to dismember every Communist in sight with his with his gatling gun, furiously pelvic thrusting to the beat of black metal all the while.

Following his example, Michael Jordan dribbled his basketball and rushed into the battle alongside his star-spangled brethren. He respectfully lowered his head and chuckled, "Your talents are likewise appreciated, O' patriotic hedgehog. That being said, I doubt either of our skills could measure up to those of my dear father and the leader of our group, _Abraham 'Liberty' Lincoln!"_

In that moment, the heavens opened wide and bathed the earth below with the glow of a seraph. Abraham Lincoln — a man of unparalleled might and one of the strongest warriors to ever grace the Americaverse — plummeted through the cloud cover flanked by an army of bald eagles.

In but a few brief seconds after this pious warlord's entrance, the battlefield exploded in a visceral fuckfury of gore and brutalized Communist corpses. Flushed by the light of George Washington's eternal grace, Honest Abe threw his head back and bayed at the moon, _"Fuck yeah! God bless America!"_

He raised his guitar and rallied his men together for one final charge against the Marxist hordes of the netherworld. Sonic couldn't help but watch with his mouth agape in awe, deeply touched in his nether regions by Abe Lincoln's astral fuckrage and raw, untempered patriotism. Truly, the son of the holy man Tupac Shakur was every bit as powerful as the legends described him as. Despite his many attempts, Garfield has no luck in convincing his friends that liking traps isn't gay.

 ** _AGE 2010 P.A. (Post-Americageddon)_**

"...Basically, what I'm trying to say here is that the Earth is definitely flat. No doubt about it. Only some kind of low energy spherefag would try to deny that. Are you following me here, Sonic-kun?" Trump asked with a wry grin plastered on his face. Sonic, however, was far too stoned to process his companion's scholarly arguments of Zetetic astronomy.

"What the fuck are you even going on about, Trump?" He growled as he dismounted from his motorcycle to set up camp. "Are you some kinda retard or somethin'? The Earth is round, like my ballocks n' shit," Sonic expressed, disgusting Trump with his closed mind and frequent habit of comparing things to his genitals. Clearly, Sonic had little interest in any topic that didn't involve mass genocide.

"Pshht, normies…" Donald Trump jeered with a playful smile. Sonic removed the smoking joint from his mouth and instead inserted a stick of Pocky, a gift given to him by Garfield on the eve of his journey six years ago. Trump raised a quizzical eyebrow as he watched his partner shove another 1,488 sticks of Pocky into his mouth. Sonic loves Pocky almost as much as he loves America.

The savage hedgehog turned to his partner and frowned, "Why are you still following me anyway, Trump? You don't have an axe to grind with the Commies or any desire to save the Americaverse like I do. Hell, you even tried to kill me the first time we met. Why bother to put your ass on the line by fighting these bastards when you've got nobody to avenge?"

Trump quirked an eye ridge at his unusual question. He then smirked and smugly puckered his lips, "My my, did I almost detect a hint of _concern_ for me in your voice? As I remember, you were trying to kill me too. Things really have changed between us after all, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Hedgehog?"

The fuckferocious hedgehog drew his lips back into a snarl, "Nigga, I oughta give you a Negro Restraining Order for talkin' that gay shit. I'm just asking so that I won't have any unanswered questions when I inevitably snap and chop your head off with my dick, got it?"

Donald Trump shrugged his shoulders, "I've told you before, haven't I? I'm a pyromaniac. Chemical brainiac. I'll morph any structure into charcoal black. To me, there's nothing more beautiful than the sweet dulcet of flames crackling as I burn my foes to cinders. It's like a symphony, I can feel the melody of death deep in my bones! I wish to stack the victims of my inferno into a heap that's twice as tall as my own Trump Tower, _that's my greatest dream!"_

Trump formed an 'OK' hand gesture and closed his eyes, lost in the ecstasy of his depraved dreams. "That's sick, nigga. Damn, I never thought I'd be a part of a team where I wasn't the fucked up one. Well, whatever helps you rub one out, man," Sonic merely rolled his eyes, seeming none too concerned with his partner's strange habits.

Truthfully, Sonic couldn't say that he particularly cared. In the years following Americageddon, he was used to keeping the company of morally questionable individuals. As long as it meant that America would be saved, Sonic would even form a covenant with the godless spirit of Adolf Hitler without hesitation. Whether this was out of desperation or simple devotion to his country, Sonic himself could no longer say.

Sonic and Trump's righteous ceremony of male bonding was interrupted by the heavy clomping sounds of hundreds of boots trudging through the wasteland surrounding them. Sonic instinctively reached for his guitar — a weapon appropriately titled _"The Communist Slayer"_ — and prepared for a fight.

As the mongrel hordes emerged from the cover of fog, their identities immediately became clear to these two star-spangled warlords. Trump gritted his teeth, "It's an enemy! The Communist armies found us!"

One of these foul Marxists broke rank from the platoon and charged ahead, throwing himself upon Sonic with his spear poised to strike. The hedgehog swung his guitar and sliced this wretched socialist in two with little effort, "Communists? I fucking hate those guys!"

Without a moment of hesitation, the vein-festooned warlord withdrew his machine gun and began to open fire. He cracked a bloodthirsty smile as he gunned down a Marxist soldier riding astride a velociraptor, the hellbeast mount of choice for these inbred sodomites. Sonic scraped the dinosaur flesh from his leather jacket and continued, "Communists on velociraptors? I hate those assholes even more!"

"After that display, there's no doubt about it. We've finally tracked you down… _Communist-Hunter!"_ A dead silence fell as the commander of the heavily armed contingent swaggered forward, staring down upon Sonic and his partner from a grassy knoll situated far away from the battlefield.

The hedgehog narrowed his gaze, "These don't look like any ordinary Commies. Who the hell're these guys?"

"We are a squadron assembled by the Communist Underlord _Fidel Castro_ for the sole purpose of apprehending you and bringing you to justice. If you do not surrender immediately, we shall seize your person by force in the glorious name of Cultural Marxism. We go by many names, but you may call us… the _**Backstreet Boys**!" _ The armor-clad leader of the squadron bellowed from his peak. His white cloak fluttered in the wind as he reached out his arm, pointing his jewel-encrusted gauntlet in the hedgehog's direction.

Sonic appeared unperturbed by his challenge. He chuckled, "The Backstreet Boys, huh? You still sound like a bunch of pinko bastards to me. I'll take anything you've got! Unless it's the clap. I don't want none of that shit."

A stout, heavily built Communist warrior approached the leader of the Backstreet Boys from behind and spoke, "Master Cable Guy, may I handle this one? Having faced the Communist-Hunter in battle before, I believe that I am best suited for this task. Will you grant me this sacred duty?" The man silently bowed his head, approving his subordinate's request.

Before Sonic had any opportunity to dodge, the mysterious fighter socked him in the stomach and sent him hurdling across the battlefield. The Communist soldier then reached behind his back, pulled out a pair of chainsaw-nunchuks, and began swinging them over his head as a show of force.

Sonic rose to his feet and flicked the blood from his chin. He smirked, "Nunchuks made of chainsaws, eh? It's been a while since I've seen something like that. This guy is on a whole 'nother level than the rest of these sorry-ass Commies. Hell, I'm starting to get all turned on again just thinkin' about killing you…"

Sonic countered with a swing of his guitar, barely missing his opponent's throat and instead knocking off his helmet. Sonic the Hedgehog was rendered speechless as he gazed upon the familiar face of his enemy, the face of one of his closest companions and one of the only members of the Biker Brethren besides himself not slain in battle all those years ago.

He trembled with shock, almost too mortified to speak. _"G-Garfield?"_


	3. The Cult of Larry the Cable Guy

**I AM OFFICIALLY DECLARING WAR ON THE SONIC THE HEDGEHOG TWITTER PAGE. I BELIEVE THEIR LACK OF LOVE FOR AMERICA DOES NOT PROPERLY REPRESENT THE SONIC BRAND. THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT.**

 _America's favorite feline has gone bad… how will Sonic cope now that he's learned the truth of Garfield becoming a Communist?_

* * *

"Allow me to introduce myself, Communist-Hunter. I am _Larry the Cable Guy,_ commander of the Backstreet Boys and holder of the sacred chalice of Pepe the Frog. It would seem that you are already well acquainted with Garfield, the vice-commander of our elite cadre and the first ranked Heavenly King of our noble order. That is most interesting indeed..." The leader of these wretched socialists spoke with a harsh, throaty voice.

He waved his hand dismissively, signalling for his soldiers and their hellbeast mounts to step away from Sonic and Garfield's duel. However, for Sonic the Hedgehog, the words of Larry the Cable Guy were nothing but background noise.

He kept his vengeful, unwavering gaze of divine fuckfury fixated solely upon Garfield. Sonic clenched his sweaty fists, crushing the box of Pocky that he was gifted by the cat all those years ago.

Sparks flew as Sonic and Garfield's righteous blades clashed against each other. Sonic snarled, "I always knew that you were one whack-ass punk bitch, but I never thought that _you_ of all people would turn against our country. How could you do it, Garfield? Those Commie bastards slaughtered all of our kinsmen, our friends! You were there during Americageddon, you should know that better than anyone!"

"Sonic, please reconsider what you're about to do. War has changed — we can no longer protect our patriotic galaxy in the same way that our forefathers once did! Only through embracing the ways of Communism can we still preserve our way of life in these dark times. It's the only hope of salvation for America! The Cable Guy showed me this truth and helped me see the light. Please see reason like I have!" The man-cat hybrid pleaded with a hint of desperation in his voice.

The American hedgehog slowly shook his head. Sonic's expression conveyed a mixture of pity, disgust, and unforgiving fuckferocity as he began to speak, "Communism? What a _joke._ But me? I'm fuckin' _woke._ Freedom, liberty, black metal, Anime girls wearing Trump hats… that is the American way of life that I'm fighting to protect! You'd really give all that up just to save your own ass? I thought I used to know you, Garfield. I guess I was wrong."

Garfield turned his head away from the American's hostile gaze, knowing Sonic well enough to understand that his request would fall on deaf ears. The cat sighed, "I guess we were both wrong. So, is that how it's going to be? You still won't accept our only hope for achieving peace and ending this hopeless war? In that case, I guess I have no choice but to defeat you, old friend. God, _I really hate Mondays…"_

Garfield began to flail his chainsaw-nunchuks with incomparable grace, decapitating the heads of every velociraptor who drew too near to his electric movements. He dove forwards and slashed the earth with his dual chainsaws, leaving only seconds for the American warmaster to dodge.

Sonic tore his belt asunder and freed the Judgement Dick from its prison of denim. He cocked his cock and fired upon the ground, propelling himself dozens of feet into the air and out of harm's way.

Sonic the Hedgehog then produced his guitar and proceeded to rock the fuck out, taunting Garfield with his godless screamo metal. Such was a most unholy act, but still undeniably patriotic.

Sonic pushed his adversary backwards with a flurry of slashes from his guitar, forcing his exhausted body onward through pure hatred alone. Garfield leapt into the sky and swung his meaty leg around, socking Sonic in the jaw with the heel of his boot. The hedgehog rolled as he hit the ground, narrowly avoiding another strike from Garfield's chainsaw from above.

"C'mon Trump-senpai, let's mirk this Communist traitor's ass! Wait, Trump?" Sonic turned his head, only to find that his partner had slipped away during the commotion. He rolled his eyes, "Typical. That dicksleeve twink never was one to stay and fight if he thought he couldn't win. Though, for him to be frightened away from some quality genocide like this, one of these guys must be pretty fuckin' strong. Damn, I'm not sure whether I should be aroused or scared shitless right now..."

While the star-spangled hedgehog hesitated, Garfield made his move. He cleared the gap between them in an instant, his chainsaw poised to dig into Sonic's flesh. Sonic grinned, "...Aroused it is! Fuck yeah, _America!"_

The hedgehog moved elegantly like a pot leaf in the wind, like a master of Tai Chi, stepping lightly sideways as Garfield bolted past him. Sonic swung his electric guitar of Damascus steel over his head, hacking his opponent's nunchucks into 1,488 pieces and bludgeoning the feline to the ground with the flat side of his blade. Garfield cried out in pain as he hurtled across the dirt, rendered beaten and bloody by Sonic's patriotic hellfury.

Sonic turned his head away from the pitiable sight and placed his guitar back into its case. He frowned, "Maybe you were right, Garfield. It might be true that we could escape all the pain and bloodshed by succumbing to the enemy like you did. But would Lincoln, Pooh, Barkley, Guy Fieri, or anyone else be able to rest in peace knowing that we just _gave up?_ Becoming a Communist would just make their sacrifice meaningless. I'd rather die for what I believe in than survive as a hollow shell of Cultural Marxism like you, Garfield!"

Larry the Cable Guy whistled in astonishment, "Excellent! The strength of the Communist-Hunter is far beyond my expectations. I never expected that you would be able to defeat the vice-commander with such ease. I suppose it's my turn now, isn't it?"

The war regalia-clad Communist rose to his feet to stare down upon Sonic from above. Despite the situation, he seemed perfectly composed and totally assured of his victory. The Communist-Hunter readied his dual machine guns and prepared for another fight.

Without taking so much as a single step, the Archprophet of the Backstreet Boys Caliphate instantly traversed the distance of a football field to stand directly behind Sonic. A cold shiver shot down the American's spine; a primal fear brought on by the horrific, unnatural power of the man standing before him. Not even Abraham "Liberty" Lincoln, the strongest warrior to ever grace the Americaverse, was capable of such speed. Sonic shook with fear, "S-So fast, he's nothing like Garfield! Who the fuck is this trippin' cracker?"

Sonic swung his blood-soaked fist, only for it to be swiftly intercepted by Larry the Cable Guy's opened hand. A sickening cracking noise was heard as the Cable Guy tightened his grip, shattering the bones in Sonic's fingers with ease. He exerted only the slightest amount of pressure in doing so, the same amount of pressure that any child of mortal men would use to lift up a glass of water.

Larry smiled calmly and spoke without the slightest hint of malice in his voice, "Do you understand now, Communist-Hunter? This strength is the power of my holy Communism, the power to defeat any bourgeois capitalist who stands in the way of its divine will. This ability… I have named it **「** **Midgets and Gay Bars** **」**. No living being on this earth could hope to stop this power, not even you. Now, as my forefathers 'The Clan of the Cable Guys' once said, it is now time... to _Git-R-Done."_

Sonic's vision went black as the Cable Guy's fist collided with the back of his head. His body went limp and came crashing down, collapsing at Garfield's feet. Sonic the Hedgehog had been defeated by Larry the Cable Guy. _  
_

"I have done my part, vice-commander. You can now do with him as you wish. Make sure to put him in the strongest restraints you can find, understand?" Larry respectfully bowed his head towards the feline. Garfield was just as visibly shaken as Sonic was.

Even after displaying his ungodly power, he still maintained the same perfectly calm tone of voice and demeanor. In Larry's mind, his power stood above all others in the Americaverse and its patriotic galaxies. He believed himself to be invincible, and not even someone as monstrously powerful as Sonic was able to shake this belief.

Larry the Cable Guy then led his army of socialist incels away from the battlefield and back to their Communist stronghold, taking Sonic the Hedgehog with them as their prisoner.

* * *

"Dinner time, fagslave! Come on, get up! Aren't you gonna eat somethin' before your execution?" A screeching, irritating voice bellowed from outside the bars of Sonic's cell. Sonic squatted upon the stone floor like a filthy, unwashed Slav holding a cheap bottle of booze. He had maintained this position for seven days straight, taking the time to meditate on his patriotic way of life and how he ended up in this place.

Having already spent several weeks in this subterranean prison without food, Sonic remained silent. "Ah, hell with it. Suit yourself, ya edgy dick," The guard shrugged. He took a seat and began eating Sonic's plate of chicken tendies in his place.

The hedgehog let out an exasperated sigh, "Fuck off, Buscemi. I ain't in the mood for your usual shit. Can't you just let me rot down here in peace?"

 _Steve Buscemi,_ the second Heavenly King of the Backstreet Boys and Garfield's trusted subordinate, drew his lips back into a snarl, "Who do you think you are, talkin' like you're tough shit? You're as whack as a welfare pimp. We're the ones who kicked your ass! The Backstreet Boys will never be defeated, we'll one day rule this shitty world! Anyway, you'll get your chance to be left alone soon enough. The Cable Guy's got something special planned for you once he gets back from the raid."

Donald Trump approached the hideout of the Backstreet Boys on the back of his motorcycle, carrying with him six full cans of gas. He stared down upon their gulch encampment, contemplating the most effective and pleasurable way to burn them all to cinders.

Trump took out his pocket handkerchief and wiped the lewd sweat from his forehead, barely containing his depraved cackles of joy. He grinned and tipped his fedora, "My greatest, most beautiful symphony is about to begin! _Let's burn this shit up!"_


	4. Donald Trump's Symphony of Death

**SONIC THE HEDGEHOG: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN IS THE ONLY FANFICTION OFFICIALLY SUPPORTED BY THE INSANE CLOWN POSSE. WHOOP WHOOP!**

 _Trapped in the dungeons of the Backstreet Boys, Sonic the Hedgehog waits for salvation… but will Trump make it in time before his execution at the hands of Larry the Cable Guy?_

* * *

 _"When did I become this way? When did I grow to love the flames of death above all else? To be honest, I cannot say for sure. All I know is, when I stare at those beautiful flames and hearken upon their sweet melody of destruction, the truth of my place in this world becomes clear to me!"_

Blood and ash rained from the sky as Donald Trump waltzed across the raging battlefield, utterly decimating every Communist soldier in his path. Trump smiled in utter ecstasy as he raised both of his hands, performing the intricate motions of a conductor leading his symphony as he doused these wretched socialists with a can of gasoline. He then removed the joint from between his lips and flicked it into the fuel-soaked crowd.

"I'm back… and you're _FIRED!"_ Trump threw back his head and roared with laughter, lighting up the soldiers of the Backstreet Boys and blowing them all away. He placed his hands on his cheeks and cooed with pleasure, "Mmm… now that's an exquisite sound!"

Donald Trump used his pyrokinesis to reform the inferno surrounding him into a pair of flaming swords. He swung his dual blades with incomparable grace and skill, cleaving off the heads of every Commie in sight from the jaw upwards and watering the sand with their blood.

A great swell of smoke billowed as Trump incinerated all of the Communist legions foolish enough to stay and fight. He took a gentlemanly sip from his glass of champagne and began to dance upon the charred corpses of his enemies, cackling madly into the night. Trump concluded his symphony of death with a flick of his wrist, shooting out sparks from his fingertips and burning the rest of their encampment to cinders. Such is a holy act.

 _"Could it have been when I was born? Could I have become this way when the Harlem Globetrotters experimented upon me during the Communist Wars? In the end, I suppose none of that really matters. I start forest fires. I burn telephone poles. I ignite wires just to watch things explode. I smoke blunts in a gasoline bathtub. If it can be burned, I'll burn it. My purpose in this world is to make America great again, one glorious hellfire at a time!"_

Steve Buscemi quaked with terror as Trump's concerto of explosions sounded from above. The ceiling of the Backstreet Boys' underground prison shook violently with each blast, showering the floor with dust and 1,488 stray bits of concrete.

Sonic cracked a smile, knowing of only one man besides himself capable of such divine fuckfury. He folded his arms and chuckled, "About time you showed up, dicksleeve…"

Sonic set down his Hookah pipe and directed his gaze to the prison cell on the other side of the room. The hedgehog cocked his head to the side, surprised that his fellow inmate hadn't uttered a single word the entire month he had stayed in this foul place. Truthfully, Sonic was too high to even notice that there was another prisoner besides himself until this point.

"Hey, faggot!" Sonic began with a traditional, American greeting. "What're you in for? Did you massacre some Commies bastards too?" He asked.

After an entire millisecond of silence, Sonic immediately decided to give up on reaching the stranger. He sighed, "Not gonna talk? Alright, I get how it is. Suit yourself."

"You're that man called the Communist-Hunter, right?" The prisoner asked in a low voice, breaking the silence. "I heard the guards talking about you earlier. How did an American of your strength and pious freedom end up in a wretched place like this?" He inquired. Sonic turned his head away from the stranger's gaze, somewhat embarrassed by his defeat at the hands of Cultural Marxism.

He shrugged, "I got my ass kicked by that Backstreet Boys asshole. In all my years of slaying Commies, I've never met one as strong as that man. Not even _Adam Sandler,_ the red bastard responsible for causing Americageddon and the world we live in today, was even close to his level. Do you know anything that could help me slay that punk bitch?"

"If you are regarding Larry the Cable Guy, do not do so lightly. I've seen that man's godlike powers firsthand. That ability he possesses, **「** **Midgets and Gay Bars** **」** , is far beyond your strength to deal with. He's a shining beacon of light in this age of darkness, drawing those whose hearts are weak into his cult of personality. All of his men would die for him without hesitation. Do you really think you could stop a Communist like that?" He questioned, staring Sonic right in the face as he spoke.

The ZOG-hating hedgehog nodded his head, seeming totally assured of his ability. "Of course I fuckin' can," He smirked. _"I'm a goddamn American!"_

The blasts above grew louder and louder as Donald Trump drew nearer to their location. With the rest of his allies busy raiding another planet in the quadrant, Buscemi was completely alone and would have to deal with the invader himself. But unlike his commanding officer, Garfield, he wasn't particularly strong or brave. His immediate concern was with escaping so he could save his own skin.

Beginning to panic, Steve Buscemi threw down his tray of chicken tendies and bolted for the door. As he reached for the handle, he paused and turned back to the prisoners he was charged to watch over.

"Fuck this, I'm outta here! But first thing's first, I guess I should go ahead and execute ya so your dumbass friends can't bust you out. Hopefully Garf-man won't mind that I'm doing his job for him. Hell, Cable Guy-senpai might even promote me to vice-commander for takin' charge in a crisis like this! Hot damn, I'm one clever son of a bitch," Buscemi held his hand to his chin and nodded, immensely pleased with himself.

Sonic's deranged guard withdrew his knife and wedged his arm between the bars to his cell. He began wildly flailing his blade, repeatedly attempting to stab this righteous American in the heart so he could flee from Trump's impending wrath.

"...You're an American, eh? Good answer, little cuz. I knew that I wasn't wrong about you. In that case, I will help you!" Without warning, Sonic's fellow inmate blew the door to his prison cell off of its hinges. He socked Steve Buscemi in the jaw with a strength beyond reckoning, planting his face deep into the concrete floor.

He did the same for Sonic's cell by effortlessly bending the reinforced steel bars to open an entrance for the patriotic hedgehog. Sonic cautiously stepped out, standing in awe of this American warmaster's prodigious strength that eclipsed even his own. Sonic smirked, "That's one hell of a greeting, nigga. You're clearly no stranger in the fine art of smiting Cultural Marxists, so I've gotta ask— just who the fuck are you?"

The musclebound warlord tore his shirt asunder and revealed his elegant physique, a powerful body forged from decades of endless training and the consumption of filtered water. Such is the only traditional way to greet a fellow American as ordained by George Washington.

The man turned to the trembling hedgehog and smiled, "We've met before, but I wouldn't expect you to remember me. You were just a child, after all. I go by many names. Some men call me _Moonman._ Other men call me _Teenus._ A few call me _David Duke._ But you may call me… _**Alex Jones**_ _!"_


	5. The Secret of Midgets and Gay Bars

**THE AUTHOR OF THIS FANFICTION IS A PROUD MEMBER OF HGTOW. (HEDGEHOGS GOING THEIR OWN WAY)**

 _Sonic and Trump have finally escaped from the clutches of the Backstreet Boys… but who is the mysterious new ally that has joined them on their quest?_

* * *

"Cut my life into pieces…" Sonic murmured under his breath. He plummeted through the clouds with his dual machine guns in hand, diving headfirst into a battlefield crawling with Marxist soldiers.

He reached the ground and opened fire, showering the earth with a downpour of hellbeast afterbirth and Commie blood. Sonic threw back his head and shouted at the top of his lungs with a black metal screech, "This is my _LAST RESORT!"_

"Suffocation, no breathing! Don't give a fuck if I cut my arm, bleeding!" Sonic wildly thrashed his head as he swung his electric guitar to and fro. The wise hedgehog then placed both of his hands upon his belt buckle and over his crotch, forming an intimidating power pose to strike fear into the cowardly hearts of his socialist enemies. "I'm losing my sight! Losing my mind! Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine!"

"So, this hollering dumbass is the infamous Communist-Hunter I've heard so much about? Ha, what a joke! That foolish cousin of mine, El Che, must have been even weaker than I took him for to be killed by a feeble capitalist such as this. Now all I have to do is destroy him to solidify my place as the strongest Communist in all of the eastern galaxy!" A rough, gravelly voice grumbled over the tumult of the battlefield.

Sonic's colostomy bag ruptured as he beheld the puckered, anemic face of the Communist Underlord _Leonid Brezhnev_ beaming down upon him. While he was the weakest of the major Marxist lords both in physical strength and the military assets he possessed, Brezhnev was infamous for his sadistic nature and his love of torturing innocent Americans. Donald Trump contemplates murder when Sonic won't stop playing J-pop music.

Without a second of hesitation or a hint of pity, Sonic reloaded his blood-stained M60 and proceeded to fill this vile Commie with bullets. The only thing comparable to this act in divine grace and patriotism would be having a hotdog eating contest with Ron Paul.

Brezhnev rose from the dirt and shook off the bullets that riddled his torso and loins, shocking Sonic with his inhuman durability. He cracked a smug, unsanctimonious grin, "Shooting me with a machine gun? What a pitiful, **「** **tired」** approach. On the other hand, I am **「** **wired」**! Thanks to years of genetic research, I have made my body completely invulnerable to any and all attacks. What could a weakling like you possibly do to counter such a godlike powe—"

 _"Fuck this stupid dildo!"_ Sonic snarled. He lifted Leonid Brezhnev up over his head and tossed him off the face of a nearby cliff before he could finish his sentence.

"Is he always like this? Is this what happens when you drink too much tap water?" Alex Jones whispered in Trump's ear.

Trump shrugged, "You mean Sonic-kun? Usually he only gets this genocidal when something is getting to him. In this case, I'd venture a guess and say it's because of his friend's betrayal. From what little he's told me about his past, he and Garfield were once fairly close. What, does it surprise you that even a madman like him has people he cares about?" Trump nodded his head in approval, watching as his companion eviscerated all of the remaining Communist legions just to work out his frustrations.

Much to Trump's dismay, Sonic swiped his designer scarf from his neck and used it to wipe the blood from his face. The hedgehog turned his head and shot Jones a hostile glare, "Alright, that should be enough genocide for now. I've got two questions for you, old man — what's the secret to Larry the Cable Guy's power, and how can I chop his head off with my dick? Specifically the second part."

Alex Jones folded his arms and leaned back onto Sonic's Harley. He sighed, "Sorry, but I can't help you there. I did my part. Mission fuckin' accomplished, and I don't really feel like doin' much else. Figure it out yourself, little cuz."

Sonic drew his machete and pressed it against Jones's throat. He frowned, "That wasn't a fuckin' suggestion, dicksleeve. Just because we used to be homies a long time ago doesn't mean that we're all buddy-buddy n' shit. I need to know how I can beat Larry the Cable Guy's power and save my country!"

Alex Jones set down his jug of filtered water and let out a long, hard sigh. He smirked, "You haven't changed at all, have you? If you want to fight a suicidal battle, I guess that's your business. Larry the Cable Guy's using what's called the **'Patriotic Drive'** , something only pure blood Americans can do. It symbolizes his mastery over the forces of American freedom and liberty, allowing him to use the star-spangled energy in his own soul to channel supernatural, ungodly strength. Some say that Abe Lincoln himself invented this forbidden technique eons ago. Today, only a handful of people in the entire patriotverse have mastered it. It would take hundreds of years of training and meditation for you to match that level of strength, so you might as well give up before you get yourself killed."

Sonic reeled back in shock, "Pure blooded Americans? There's no goddamn way! If that's true, that would mean...!" "That Larry's an _American traitor?"_ Alex Jones finished his sentence for him. He bowed his head, "You're right on the mark. Not only that, but the Backstreet Boys is a group of Communists made up _solely_ of Americans. Your friend, Garfield, isn't a unique case. On top of that, I believe that all of their elite cadre possess similar abilities. Do you now realize just what you're up against, cuz?"

Donald Trump furrowed his brow, suspicious of Sonic's new companion. "Just who is this man, and how does Sonic-kun know him? He seems foolish at first glance, but in actuality he possesses an unholy level of strength. I can't help but feel a dark aura about him, the likes of which I haven't felt since the end of the Communist Wars..." Steve Buscemi begins wearing a leather onesie that absolutely no one wants to talk about.

 _Elsewhere, 1,488 lightyears away in the depths of Communist space..._

"Everyone run! The Communist armies found us, we have to escape! They've already begun bombarding the planet from orbit. We can't stay here any longer!" Huckleberry Hound — the leader of a resistance movement of Americans situated on the outer edge of Communist space — cried out in a frantic voice. He ushered his people onward, assisting them in carrying their equipment and food rations as they bolted for the emergency exit.

Marxist battle-cruisers began strafing the surface of the planet with missiles, reducing the Americans' encampment to a heap of boiling slag. Huck's eyes opened wide with horror as heavily armed Communist soldiers poured in from the north to block off their only escape route.

With the flaming rubble of their camp from behind, an army of Marxists in the front, and the walls of a mountain on both sides, it became all too clear that the Communists had prepared for every possible contingency. Huck had no choice but to fight a hopeless battle that would surely kill him to save his people.

Larry the Cable Guy led the march riding astride his beloved cybernetic hellhound, _Blondi._ This ignoble beast was once the ancestral mount of Adolf Hitler, the dark spirit that almost brought about the end of the Americaverse many yahrens past.

The Communist lord cupped his face with his calloused hands and grinned, "Excellent! It appears the plan to flush the bourgeois filth from their hiding place was a success. You already know what to do, men: _don't leave any survivors."_

The Marxist hordes opened fire, mowing down hundreds of innocent American men, women, and children as they tried to flee. Tears began to stream down Huck's face as he watched his patriotic kinsmen be slaughtered by the dozens, knowing in his heart that he was powerless to help them.

Seeing that the hound was too mortified to escape, Top Cat used his own body as a living shield and took all of the bullets flying his commander's way. Huck choked back tears as he cradled his gravely wounded comrade in his arms, accompanying him in his final moments of life.

"Ha… so this is how it ends? I never woulda' thought a coward like me would go out like this. I helped, r-right...?" The cat rasped in a weak voice.

Huck silently bowed his head in respect as Top Cat fell limp in his arms. He closed his companion's eyelids for him and rested his lifeless body upon the dirt, "Yeah, Top Cat. You helped. You were a braver man than I ever could have been."

"You Communist BASTARDS!" Huck roared in anguish. He turned face and charged directly towards the advancing army of socialists. The musclebound hell-lord withdrew his chainsaw and began blindly hacking away at the Communist forces surrounding him, tearing them to ribbons. Now stained red with the blood of his sodomous foes, Huckleberry Hound released the fullest extent of his patriotic fuckfury and lunged at Larry the Cable Guy.

 _Crazy Frog,_ Larry's personal bodyguard and the fourth Heavenly King of the Backstreet Boys, suddenly appeared from behind and socked Huck to the dirt. Garfield turned his head away from the grisly sight as Crazy Frog drew his blade and summarily executed the innocent hound on the spot, sparing him no mercy.

Garfield trod lightly upon the scorched earth, silently lamenting the tragedy that had just occurred. Tears began to well up in the feline's eyes as he lifted up the charred body of an American child that he found buried in rubble. As a way to honor his life, he fashioned the child a makeshift grave and placed a cross carved from bone on top of it.

"This… this isn't right! I understand the need to quell American rebellions to maintain peace, but surely there has to be a better option than genocide! My late Kenpō master, _Jon Arbuckle,_ would never approve of all this senseless death!" Garfield cried.

Larry the Cable Guy leaned forward and rested a caring hand upon Garfield's shoulder. He turned to the grieving feline with a calm smile, "I know how you feel, child. The path that Communism asks us to take is no easy one, but you must not lose faith! The Backstreet Boys are the only thing that stands between peace and another fifty-million year war between the Americans and Marxists. You should know the horrors of the Communist Wars better than anyone, vice-commander. If another war such as that were to break out, every one of us would perish. Wouldn't you say that a few thousand lives are a small price to pay to maintain peace in the Americaverse?"

Garfield's sphincter puckered with horror as he was reminded of the conflicts of years past and the trillions that were slaughtered. Haunted by Americageddon and stripped of his will to fight for the American way of life, Garfield now wished for nothing more than to protect the few loved ones he had left.

The pasta loving man-cat bowed his head, conceding to Larry's manipulative will, "You… you're right, Cable Guy-sama. To protect the people I care about, I'm prepared to pay any price! That's why I became a Communist in the first place. If anyone dares to stand in the way of Communism's divine will, I'll spare them no mercy!"

Larry the Cable Guy grinned and popped a handful of Prilosec OTC pills into his mouth. "I'm glad you feel that way, vice-commander. You truly are a wise man. To maintain this fragile peace and prevent another war, you know as well as I do that Sonic the Hedgehog must be killed. To coax him out of hiding, I plan to strike close to home by hurting someone that he cares deeply about. Did you know that man has a wife and young son, Garfield?" He asked.

Garfield trembled with fear, knowing exactly who his master was referring to. There was only one person Sonic ever held close to his heart, and said person was also the only surviving member of the Biker Brethren besides the hedgehog and himself. "Wait, surely you can't mean we're going to attack… _Anne Frank and Richard Nixon!"_


	6. Garfield Minus America

**A HALF-NAKED GIRL CAN GET HUNDREDS OF LIKES, HOW MANY LIKES CAN PATRIOTIC FANFICTION GET?**

 _The forces of Communism have declared war on Sonic the Hedgehog and his allies… but will his loved ones be endangered because of it?_

* * *

 _ **AGE 1488 B.C. (Shortly Before the Communist Wars)**_

"Take back what you said about America, you Communist bastards!" A young Sonic the Hedgehog growled. The unarmed lad launched himself at Enver Hoxha — the leader of a local gang of Marxist soldiers — prepared for a fight to the death. However, before he could land a single punch, the vile socialist grabbed Sonic by the back of his head and plowed him face-first into the dirt.

Hoxha snickered with depraved glee as he and his men proceeded to kick the young American while he was down, beating him to a pulp. He cracked a sickeningly smug grin as he spat on the battered hedgehog and turned to walk away, "Learn your place, you bourgeois piece of trash! One day, the Communist race will claim its rightful place in the patriotverse and wipe out all of the American scum like you. You have no business challenging your natural elite!"

With tears streaming down his face, Sonic rose again and swung another punch at Enver Hoxha. The Communist rolled his eyes and stuck out his leg, tripping the hedgehog and sending him rolling across the soggy ground. Despite every bone in his body telling him to stay down, Sonic forced himself to rise and defend the honor of his country. Tensions are high when Sonic decides to start wearing clown makeup and declares himself to be a "Juggalo."

The young American raised his chin, showing no fear. He snarled, "I'll never forgive you pinko bastards for what you've done! Even if it kills me, I'm going to fight for the glory of America until my star-spangled blood runs dry!"

"You still going on about your foolish capitalist values, kid? I almost feel sorry for you. You're only going to waste your life and die a pointless death in doing so just like so many before you! But if you insist on throwing your life away, I'll be to happy to help!" Enver Hoxha smirked as he reached into his trench coat, drawing his glock. Just as any other savage Communist would do, Hoxha pointed his gun sideways and aimed it at the innocent American child.

Sonic stood frozen in place, far too petrified by the thought of dying to move. The hedgehog hung his head in shame and clenched his prized quarter tightly in his fist. "Forgive me, Washington-sama. I've failed you…"

"Hey, kid! Are you really just going to sit there while that goddamn Communist besmirches the glorious name of America?" A mysterious figure called out from the distance, speaking with the wise and fair voice of a seraph.

The enigmatic warrior sped into the battlefield riding astride his Harley Davidson™ motorcycle. He began his fuckferocious counterattack, disemboweling all of Enver Hoxha's wicked host with ease. He then threw back his head and opened his mouth to quaff from the acidic hellblood of his enemies that poured from the sky like rain.

Sonic's knees trembled as he stared directly into the fiery eyes of his savior. The hedgehog's lips turned dry and colorless, and his face pale. All brightness fled from his eyes as primal fear took hold of him. Overcome with a profound sense of both adoration and terror, Sonic collapsed and fell upon his face before the towering figure, "Who… _who are you?"_

The man guffawed at the young hedgehog's ignorance, "Who am I, you ask? I'm a pioneer, I'm an explorer. I'm an _AMERICAN,_ and I'm coming! I'm animated, I'm alive, my heart's _BIG!_ It's got hot blood going through it _FAST!_ I like to fight too! I like to eat! I like to have children! This is an American, this is what we look like! This is what we act like! This what everybody was like before us. This is what I am, I'm a throwback. I'm _HERE!"_

"An American… this is what a real American warrior looks like!" The trembling lad thought to himself. Sonic had always idolized the great warlords of the United States such as Tupac Shakur and Abraham Lincoln, emulating their pious way of life with every waking moment. However, never before had the young hedgehog come face to face with one of the righteous soldiers of the deity George Washington.

Enver Hoxha clawed his way out of the pile of savaged corpses he had been buried under, still barely alive. He removed a large piece of shrapnel from below his eye and turned to stare at Sonic the Hedgehog with a murderous glare. He growled, "I don't know who the hell that friend of yours is, but you're all going to pay for slaughtering my men and ruining my beautiful face! _You motherfucking baka gaijin!"_

Hoxha swung his machete in a fit of blind rage, slicing a deep gash across Sonic's torso. Instead of again coming to the hedgehog's aid, the American warrior kept his distance. He removed his electric guitar from its leather case and tossed it at Sonic's feet, "A true American helps those who help themselves, little cuz. If you've got something to defend, take up that guitar and _FIGHT_ for your country!"

Without a moment's hesitation, the young American took the red axe-guitar into his hands and stared intently upon its polished surface. In that instant, Sonic the Hedgehog's destiny became clear.

He swung this guitar with incomparable grace and skill and hewed Enver Hoxha asunder, slicing his body in two along his waist. Sonic then raised his guitar of divine fuckferocity to the heavens and cried out in joyous song, _"Fuck yeah, AMERICAAAA!"_

The American warrior slowly nodded his head in approval. He took a step closer and playfully ruffled the hedgehog's anime hair, "Keep the guitar, little cuz. It suits you well! How does it feel knowing that you've just taken your first steps into the world of a true American? Never forget how you felt today as you chopped down your first Communist. Keep that feeling with you always, for it will give you strength!"

"Will… will I ever see you again? Please, take me with you! I want to fight for my great country, I want to be a true American warlord!" Sonic pleaded with his face to the ground. Sonic loves America almost as much as he loves huffing spray paint.

The man smiled warmly and shook his head, "You're about twenty-thousand years too early to be able to fight on even terms with me, kiddo. That being said, you're no ordinary American! With that patriotic fuckfury of yours, I believe you'll even be able to surpass me one day. When the Americaverse has reached its darkest hour and the great _cycle of time_ comes to an end, I promise that we will meet again. The name's _Alex Jones._ What's yours?"

 _ **AGE 2010 P.A. (Current Year)**_

"Y'know Trump, even with all the dumb shit you say, I've actually come to enjoy your company over these past few years. When we first met, I'll admit that I wanted to chop your head off with my dick. But now? I still want to chop your head off with my dick. But I'd probably feel bad about it afterwards," Sonic chuckled as he removed the smoking joint from his mouth. He cracked a wry grin. "Jeez, I bet that sounds gay as hell, doesn't it?"

Trump raised an eyebrow at his partner's unusually amiable tone. He chuckled, "Hm, now _that_ is interesting! That's probably the least genocidal thing you've ever said to me, Sonic-kun. What's brought on the sudden change of heart? Is it because of all the filtered water you've been drinking?"

Sonic shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, "Who knows? I guess you could say I've been thinkin' about the path I've been walking down since Americageddon happened. I became so obsessed with slaying the fuck out of Commies that I ended up abandoning the people I cared about the most, my _nakama._ If I had been there to stop him, maybe I could have even saved Garfield from becoming a Communist. Right now, what I want to do is make up for lost time and get my shit back in order. That's why I'm searching for Anne Frank, the last member of the Biker Brethren and one of my closest companions. To be honest, I'm not even sure that she's still alive..."

"A woman? Don't tell me that you fell for the tricks of the Vaginal Jew, little cuz! Everyone knows that all true patriots are celibate and live solely off of the kinky, all-American love of _LADY LIBERTY!_ Didn't I teach you better than that?" Alex Jones scolded at the top of his lungs.

Like any other righteous member of American nobility would do in this situation, Alex Jones tore his leather jacket and jeans asunder to reveal his mighty physique. He threw back a shot of his signature _Super Male Vitality_ formula, heightening his already mighty strength to absolutely godlike levels. Forsooth, such a powerful, well-toned body could have only been forged from his oath of celibacy and rejection of impure, three-dimensional women.

"You didn't teach me shit, ya globalist-hating dick. We only met, like, one time! If it weren't for those dope water filters you gave us, I would've decked you the fuck out a long time ago," Sonic grumbled in his usual sour demeanor. After an entire day's worth of righteous, minimally-clothed male bonding, Sonic the Hedgehog and his company finally reached the planet of _Monticello Gamma._

This lush, green world was the home of the ascetic demiurge Thomas Jefferson in the golden age of the Americaverse, and after his death it was conquered and made into the base of operations for Adam Sandler, one of the mightiest of all the Communist lords. Sonic had been directed to travel to this distant plane by an old acquaintance of his, _Method Woman,_ the daughter of the late Method Man and an oracle with the power to foretell the near future.

The patriotic hedgehog dismounted from his Harley Davidson™ motorcycle and removed his space helmet upon reaching the planet's surface. Sonic stood aghast as he stared into the distance, beholding the smoke of a massive fire billowing over the horizon.

"It would seem that the enemy had the same idea as we did, Mr. Hedgehog…" Trump spoke in a quiet voice, putting into words what everyone else was already thinking.

Donald Trump could feel Sonic's boundless anger building as they searched through the smoking remains of Anne Frank's seaside bungalow. The deranged pyromaniac cooed with lewd pleasure, seeming particularly excited at the prospect of seeing Sonic the Hedgehog's divine fuckrage in action.

Sonic turned his head as he heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from behind. "I'm sorry we had to do this, lad. You gave us no choice! If you had only surrendered before and faced the justice of Communism, we could have resolved this without anyone else getting hurt. You brought this destruction upon yourself!" Garfield called out from the distance, staring down upon Sonic from a heap of rubble. In his hairy arms he carried Anne Frank, who had been rendered unconscious during the attack.

 _" **GARFIIIIELD**! _ I'm gonna shove a railroad spike up your dick for this, you goddamn Commie traitor!" The steely-eyed hedgehog roared with indignation. He launched himself at Garfield, but was swiftly knocked back down to the earth by the portly feline's elite cadre of assassins, the Heavenly Kings of the Backstreet Boys — _Steve Buscemi,_ _Crazy Frog,_ and _Brendan Fraser._

Garfield turned his head away to hide the tears forming in his eyes. He let out a long, hard sigh, "Please forgive me, Sonic. What I'm about to do, I do without choice for the safety of our glorious country. God, I really hate Mondays…"


	7. The Son of Sonic the Hedgehog

**MY JIHAD ON THE SONIC THE HEDGEHOG TWITTER IS ABOUT TO BEGIN. I AM PREPARED TO FIGHT MEMES WITH EVEN DANKER MEMES UNTIL THOSE WHO BLASPHEME THE GOOD NAME OF SONIC ARE DESTROYED. PLEASE ENJOY THE STORY.**

 _Battle lines are drawn as Garfield comes back to finish what he started… but will Sonic be able to survive a heated fight against four of the strongest warriors Communism has ever seen?_

* * *

"Fuck off, normies! _REEEEEEEEEE!"_ Steve Buscemi screeched with a demonic wail. He threw himself at Sonic, poised to cleave out the hedgehog's jugular vein with his hunting knife.

Sonic showed no fear as he unzipped his jeans and swung his artificial gun-cock, smacking Buscemi with it across the face and sending him hurdling across the dirt. He rolled his eyes, "Who the hell is this dumbass?"

Steve Buscemi recoiled at the hedgehog's scathing words. "D-D-Dumbass? Nrgh… p-pretty cocky of you, thinking you can talk shit about me in front of my h-homies in my own hood! _Gugh… ngh… you f-f-faggot…"_ The Communist assassin whimpered, utterly devastated. Garfield and his companions consoled Steve Buscemi as he proceeded to openly weep with his face to the ground.

 **STEVE BUSCEMI - Ability Name:** **「** **Pretty Fly for a White Guy** **」**

Donald Trump furrowed his flaxen eyebrows with disgust, "These goddamn Commies are even more crooked than Hillary! How about you say we pump 'em full of lead, Sonic-kun?"

The ZOG-hating hedgehog beamed with satisfaction as he readied his dual machine guns and stared down the advancing forces of Cultural Marxism led by Garfield. He nodded his head and grinned, "Hell yeah, motherfucker!"

The wind, the fire, the smoke of burning rubber, and the puddles of blood on the grass all blurred together as Sonic and his brotherhood of patriotic fuckfury sped forth astride their motorcycle steeds to confront the armies of the Backstreet Boys. Sonic the Hedgehog wildly swung his bloodied chainsaw at the faceless masses, lopping off thousands of Marxist heads without pity. Such was the only appropriate course of action to take for a man of the cloth such as himself.

Sonic's legendary electric guitar — the Communist Slayer — produced a shimmering arc of red, white, and blue as it came crashing down upon the heads of his sodomous foes, splitting their skulls into 1,488 separate pieces. Righteous tears streamed down the hedgehog's face as he pounded out a pious riff of Norwegian black metal on this holy instrument, a melody of unequaled beauty that sent his heretical foes spiraling into a frenzy of terror.

"Brucia, brucia! Bellissima sinfonia di Trump!" Donald Trump cackled in a language that Sonic could only assume was Japanese as he roasted his foes alive, leaving behind only their teeth and genital bones. Sonic and Trump stood side by side and opened fire with their matching set of miniguns, ripping through hundreds of these foul socialists with ease in a brutal swath of genocidal hellviolence. Trump tipped his fedora as he lit up the remainder of his enemies and blew them away, "Arrivederci!"

"...What is this feeling? I've been slaying Commies for so long that even I was beginning to think it was hopeless. But these past few days have been nothing like that. I almost feel like I did when I was fighting with my homies, the Biker Brethren, all those years ago. What's changed, why do I suddenly feel this way?" Sonic pondered to himself in the heat of the battle.

Sonic smiled contently as he watched Alex Jones and Donald Trump slay all of the Marxists in sight without mercy. He'd be lying if he said this didn't remind him of his deceased allies from before the dark days of Americageddon.

* * *

 _"And then I gave her the Cleveland Steamer!" Sonic drunkenly guffawed, leaning back onto his motorcycle with his arm held over Garfield's shoulder. The portly feline and the rest of the sweaty bikers roared with laughter at the hedgehog's passionate quips and clinked their frosty beer mugs together in patriotic brotherhood._

 _Winnie the Pooh snickered, "Alright, I've got to hand it to you all. This group of yours may be weak as shit, but you sure can throw one hell of a party!"_

 _Abe Lincoln played a lively tune on his guitar as all of his companions celebrated their latest victory. Even the usually shy Charles Barkley had joined in the festivities._

 _"Shut the front door, everyone. I made a feast just for the occasion!" The bikers cheered and raised their glasses as Guy Fieri walked into the room, carrying with him a banquet of meat fit for a group of red-blooded Americans such as this._

* * *

"Could it be… that I've started to have hope again? Hope that I can defeat the forces of Communism and finally save my country? Nah, that's fuckin' gay," Sonic shrugged off his newfound feelings of American kinship and decided to focus on the fight at hand. Donald Trump begins to panic after trapping a wasp under a cup.

Alex Jones put a Communist gunman in a headlock and wrestled him to the ground before he could open fire. The hairs atop this pious American's bare chest swayed elegantly in the wind as he launched himself into the fray, heading straight for Garfield and his elite soldiers.

 _"A ring ding ding ding beng beng baa baa!"_ Crazy Frog's unmistakable battle cry echoed throughout the night as he intercepted Alex Jones's attack, driving him back to the earth's surface with a suplex slam.

 **CRAZY FROG - Ability Name:** **「** **It's Raining Men** **」**

Jones wiped the blood from his chin and smirked, "You're on a whole 'nother level than the rest of these globalist maggots, ladies and gentlemen! It looks like _FILTERED WATER_ and _PATRIOTISM_ alone won't be enough to defeat you. Praise Washington-sama that I thought to bring my nutritional supplements along with me!" The info warrior unzipped his fanny pack and revealed his assortment of herbal concoctions and arcane extractions, each bearing a unique ability formulated for the sole purpose of slaying Communists.

Jones's muscles ballooned to an enormous size as he downed the contents of one of his formulas. He threw back his head and bayed at the moon, "Strength _ENHANCE!_ Super Male Vitality!" Alex Jones swung his meaty fists at Crazy Frog and socked him to the dirt, overwhelming the amphibian with his greatly heightened strength.

Crazy Frog directed his wide, buggy eyes in Jones's direction. They were the windows to a broken soul, of a man with no future and no will to live. The frog's cold, dead stare seemingly peered inside of him, making all of the American's hairs stand on end. He beamed and revealed his blood stained teeth, "Heh… you're not bad, stranger. That pain that you gave me almost made everything feel real. It called forth the life within me. Sometimes, I forget what it's like to actually feel 'alive'. It's been a good while since I've felt like that, long before Americageddon began. I hope that I can help you escape from the endless nightmare that is reality, stranger…"

Donald Trump's scarf fluttered in the breeze behind him as he clashed against Brendan Fraser, the tactical advisor of the Backstreet Boys. Trump strained his muscles to their maximum capacity just to keep up with Fraser's electric movements as their fight continued.

"SABOTAGE!" Brendan Fraser shouted as he rushed at Trump, knocking his flaming swords out of his hands with a furious barrage of punches.

 **BRENDAN FRASER - Ability Name:** **「** **Beastie Boys** **」**

"Think about what you're doing, laddy. You have begun to walk down _Meifumadō,_ the demon's path! To protect the safety of the Americaverse and stop this endless cycle of bloodshed, I have no choice but to kill you. If you surrender now, I'll let Anne and everyone else go free. You can't resist the strength of Communism, there's no point in even trying! I learned that the hard way. Will you come with me willingly, or will you die here and now?" Garfield asked in a grave tone of voice. He reached out his hand, offering the hedgehog one final chance to resolve their conflict peacefully.

Sonic smacked away Garfield's opened hand, "I don't fuck wit' chumps. Even if we squashed the beef, I ain't touching ya hand!"

The hedgehog darted at him and swiped Anne Frank from his sweaty grasp before he could react. He knelt down, resting the unconscious woman on a patch of grass far away from the battlefield. He whispered in her ear, "Don't worry, Anne. In the name of Abe Lincoln, Charles Barkley, and everyone else those goddamn Commies slaughtered, I'll make him pay!"

The musclebound cat withdrew his newly repaired chainsaw-nunchuks and readied himself for a fight. He bowed his head and began to speak, "I won't go easy on you like I did the last time, Sonic. I will show you the power that Larry the Cable Guy taught me, the power of the Patriotic Drive!"

 **GARFIELD - Ability Name:** **「** **Real G's Move in Silence Like Lasagna** **」**

Sonic instinctively leapt backwards as he felt the movement of Garfield swinging his fist at him from behind. The hedgehog's eyes widened with shock as he turned his head, realizing that the feline hadn't moved even an inch from his original location.

Garfield's twin saws sliced in Sonic's direction from the side, forcing the hedgehog to crouch down and roll out of harm's way. Sonic gritted his teeth, "You… how the hell are you doing that? How can you attack me from all angles without taking a single step? There's no fuckin' way you're _that_ fast!"

Garfield nodded, "I'm glad to see your senses haven't dulled over the years, old friend. It's just as you thought — my main body hasn't moved at all. However, my limbs are a different case!"

Sonic pivoted his head upwards and stared upon Garfield's chainsaw nunchuks floating in midair suspended by Garfield's disembodied arms. His pudgy digits retreated back into the dark portal where they originally emerged from, returning back to their original locations on Garfield's body.

"Shit, I must be trippin'! I need to lay off the goddamn Jenkem," Sonic did a double take, rendered speechless by his former comrade's supernatural ability. Sonic loves butthash almost as much as he loves America.

"This is the ability that the Cable Guy granted me to enact my dark justice, Sonic! Using the power of the Patriotic Drive, I can create portals at will in any place I desire. I can use them to transport any object to any location. I can even send my whole body through one! I will use this power to reduce your very existence to silence… _silence like lasagna!"_ Garfield roared with indignation. Sonic leapt in pursuit of his enemy and swung his guitar, but Garfield shrank down into one of his portals and vanished before his attack could land.

"Sonic-kun, get out of there! He's behind you!" Donald Trump cried from the sidelines, but his warning came far too late. Garfield had reappeared from a portal and impaled Sonic through the back with his chainsaw, dealing him a decisive blow. Sonic collapsed at Garfield's feet, mortally wounded and gagging on his own blood.

Crazy Frog and Brendan Fraser made short work of their star-spangled opponents, beating them both unconscious and tossing them in a heap alongside Sonic. "What are your orders, vice-commander Garfield? Should we execute them all now and return back to base? What about the girl, Anne Frank? Should we kill her too?" Crazy Frog inquired. Steve Buscemi won't stop complaining about how he hates "Chads."

"NO! I… I mean, there's no need for that! With those wounds, the Communist-Hunter won't live much longer. Even if he does somehow miraculously survive, the _other_ hostage we captured will ensure that he won't try anything foolish again. Just leave them all here to bleed out!" Garfield ordered, briefly losing his composure. Even after everything that had transpired, he still couldn't bear the thought of murdering his former compatriots.

After the soldiers of the Backstreet Boys had departed, Anne Frank regained consciousness and tried to rouse Sonic from his catatonic state. The wounded hedgehog rose from the grass and groaned, still groggy from his fight with Garfield. He turned to Anne Frank and furrowed his brow, "Bloody shit, how long was I out for? Did I get tore the fuck up drinkin' Jägermeister again? And before you say anything, I can quit anytime I want to. I don't have a goddamn drinking problem."

The hedgehog took on a much more serious mien as Anne Frank broke down and began to weep in his arms. "What's wrong, Anne? Did that Commie bastard hurt you? Tell me what happened, I swear I'll mirk his punk ass for this!" Sonic spoke, his voice full of anger over Garfield's betrayal.

She shook her head, "Sonic, it's much worse than that! Forgive me for never telling you the truth, but I can't keep it a secret any longer. Garfield… he kidnapped our _son!_ He kidnapped _Richard Nixon!"_

Sonic stood aghast. Overcome with shock, the hedgehog barely managed to get the words out of his mouth, "I… I have a _son?"_


	8. Bear in the Big Blue Brothel

**SUGGESTED LISTENING: "BLACK GOAT MASS" BY GOATSODOMY**

 _After suffering a crushing defeat, Sonic the Hedgehog is faced with the revelation that his only son has been kidnapped… but will he be able to defeat the indomitable Backstreet Boys to rescue him?_

* * *

"This is Country Cookin. Can I take your order?" RZA — the commander of the Wu-Tang Clan and an old ally of Sonic the Hedgehog — asked in a flat, unamused voice.

"Hey, RZA! I didn't know that you worked at a goddamn fast food joint now. That means I don't have to pay you anything to eat here, right? I mean, I did save your ass once or twice, so I think you owe me that much," Sonic grinned and nudged the disgruntled rapper over the counter. RZA pinched his brow, "Goddamn it, not this guy again…"

Sonic began to voraciously devour his feast of free chicken tendies once he sat down in a booth next to his fellow compatriots. Donald Trump crossed his legs and took a sip from his cup of tea, and Alex Jones scarfed down several fistfuls of his daily supplements.

RZA furrowed his brow at the star-spangled hedgehog and his two partners, as well as Anne Frank. He groaned, "Jeez, you sure do keep some whack-ass company these days, brother-man. Who the hell're those guys?"

"I can't ask for your forgiveness enough, Sonic. I should have never kept our son a secret from you! When you disappeared after Americageddon to fight your war on Communism, I didn't think I would ever see you again. I thought I was going to lose you, and that… that terrified me. I didn't want Nixon to grow up waiting for a father that would never return, so I never told him about you. Can… can you ever forgive me for this?" Anne Frank asked, still hoarse from lamenting Richard Nixon's capture.

"That's… that's so goddamn tragic! I'm not crying, _DAMMIT!_ Don't look at me, you _BASTARDS!"_ Alex Jones insisted despite the tears gushing from his eyes. Crazy Frog confuses everyone when he decides to join both the Bloods and the Crips.

Sonic cupped his chin in his calloused hands, considering what she had said. He nodded his head, "You did the best you could have in a shitty situation, Anne. I can't blame you for that. We're homies n' shit, after all. For a while, I wasn't sure myself that I was going to survive. But, now I have a question for you…"

Sonic cleared his throat and began to speak, "What if I grew another fuckin' head, and his name was _Violent Ed?_ And he headbutt me every time I cussed. I would need two microphones when I bust. Would you show me love even with another head, or would you be like, 'Fuck you and Ed?' "

Anne Frank appeared at a loss for words, "Sonic, I don't understand anything you just said. It's not a part of my programming as a human-type android to process any of that."

"Basically, what I'm sayin' here is that I'm going to get Rich Nixon back from those Commie bastards even if it kills me. I want to **「** **Live Más」** and make things right by being there for you and our son from now on. _God bless America!"_ Sonic smashed his fist on the table, speaking with a voice full of determination and star-spangled fuckrage.

Anne locked her fingers together, deeply touched in her nether regions by the hedgehog's patriotic resolve, "Sonic-san…"

Donald Trump frowned, "There's just one problem with that plan, cracker killer. How exactly do you propose to defeat the Backstreet Boys? I shouldn't need to remind you that they utterly destroyed us on two separate occasions, Mr. Hedgehog. Do you have a strategy?"

"Of course I have a plan, dicksleeve! I'm gonna chop 'em all in half with my cock," Sonic stated bluntly whilst stroking his cybernetic daemon erection through his jeans. "W-What? Sonic-kun, that's not a real plan," Trump retorted with a groan.

"There _IS_ one way for you to match their strength, little cuz. It's a long shot, though. If you possessed a power similar to what Larry the Cable Guy and his elite soldiers have, you _MIGHT_ just have a chance in hell of getting your kid back. Interested?" Alex Jones proposed, piquing the fuckferocious hedgehog's curiosity.

"That'd be nice, but didn't you say that it would take hundreds of years to master that power n' shit? I ain't got that kinda time, nigga!" Sonic grumbled.

The water filter salesman cracked a sly grin, "Normally, you'd be right. But _FUCK_ the normal way, little cuz! This is _AMERICA,_ we can do whatever the hell we goddamn please! No Commies or _GLOBALISTS_ can keep us down. That's why I made a special formula just for this purpose!" Alex Jones tore his latex smock asunder and reached deep within his jockstrap, removing a small vial labeled _"Ultra Male Vitality."_

"After you drink this _PATENTED_ formula, every cell in your body will be _BROKEN_ down and _REBUILT_ simultaneously, unlocking your inner strength! One would usually have to train for decades to achieve the same effect. However, this way is considerably more dangerous. Once you take it, one of two things will happen: either your latent 'Patriotic Drive' abilities will be awakened, or you'll go into a coma and never wake up. It's a pretty risky gamble. Are you sure you're ready for it, little cuzzes?" Jones elaborated as he handed both Sonic and Trump a bottle of the formula.

"Mmm... a chance to have an intimate brush with death? I'm getting all turned on just thinking about it. Very well, I accept!" Trump said. Without a moment's hesitation, he downed the contents of the formula in one gulp.

Sonic shoved the vial into the crotch of his jeans for safekeeping. He sighed, "Man, I've really become some kinda soft-ass queer, haven't I? I'll take my chances with death only as a last resort. After all this time, I guess I finally found people I want to keep living for..." The hedgehog turned to Anne Frank, his Aryan tradwife, and smiled with contentment and fucklust.

Sonic then directed his gaze to RZA, who was busy washing dishes in the kitchen. "We're about to go slay the fuck outta some goddamn Commies. Wanna fight with me just like old times, black gestapo?" He asked.

The Wu-Tang warrior shook his head, "Hell to the naw naw, brother-man! I ain't going through that Americageddon shit again. For now, I'm more concerned with liberating the Wu-Tang homeworld from the hands of our Juggalo oppressors. But if you're ever in a bind and need our help, we'll come to your aid and bring da motherfuckin' ruckus!"

The musclebound hedgehog lifted up his guitar case and donned his war regalia, preparing for his impending battle with the Backstreet Boys. "Sonic, please wait for a moment!" Method Woman called out, shoving her way past Ghostface Killah and Ol' Dirty Bastard to see him off.

RZA raised an eyebrow, "Meth, what are you doing here? I thought you swore off predicting the future after that horrible bloodbath six years ago. Also, aren't you supposed to be cleaning the bathrooms?"

The oracle shook her head in response. Method Woman spoke in a grave voice, "Know this, Sonic of the clan Hedgehog: _you are not alone._ There is another surviving member of the Biker Brethren besides yourself and your partner. One of them survived Americageddon. When he reveals himself, the _age of hellbane_ will wash over the world and the _cycle of time_ will repeat itself once more. After this comes to pass, you shall face your final destiny."

Sonic and his company staggered backwards from the shock of the fortune teller's revelation. The hedgehog fell to his knees and gasped for air, "Another... another biker besides me survived the Ameripocalypse? That can't be possible, there's no fuckin' way! Abe Lincoln, Guy Fieri, Michael Jordan, Charles Barkley, Winnie the Pooh, Future Nixon, Dwayne Johnson... you're telling me that one of them is still _alive?"_

 _Elsewhere, 1,488 star systems away..._

With a bottle of cheap booze in one hand and a slice of lasagna in the other, Garfield drunkenly tottered through the streets of his hometown in Muncie, Indiana. Although he hated alcohol, Garfield always seemed to wind up with a drink in his hand whenever he was unhappy with the direction his life was heading in. This had been happening increasingly often ever since he joined the Backstreet Boys and was pitted against his former allies.

The cat lost his balance and fell to the wayside, collapsing behind a group of homeless Americans warming themselves by a barrel fire. Garfield belched as he rose and wrapped his arms around one of the bums. "H-h-h-hey, Lymaaaaaaan! My main man, my homie!" He slurred his speech as he spoke, mistaking the man for a friend of his that had died many yahrens ago.

The stranger cringed as the portly feline took another chug from his flask and sloshed them both with Jägermeister. "We've… we've gotta saaaaaaave the Americaverse right now, Lyman! Nermal is... that dick Nermal's tryna' get powers from _Con's Jorpse_ or some shit. C'mon Lyman, let's go rock the fuck out!" The words awkwardly tumbled out of Garfield's mouth. Steve Buscemi won't stop talking about the coming beta uprising.

Not long after, Garfield dropped his lasagna blunt and passed out on the side of the street. The cat held his face when he awoke, shying away from the sunlight beaming down on him. Garfield hadn't had a hangover this intense since the death of his martial arts master, Jon Arbuckle.

He let out a loud groan as he rose to his feet. "Jon Arbuckle-sensei… am I really making the right choice?" Garfield thought to himself, reflecting on his current situation. "Everything I've done, I've done for the sake of protecting America and putting an end to this bloody war. Even if it's not in the same way that Abe Lincoln or Michael Jordan did, I'm trying to save this country! Why can't Sonic and everyone else understand how hopeless continuing to fight the Marxists is? It will only end when every single one of us has perished!"

"...Being ruled by Communism is a small price to pay to protect the lives of our people. Living in servitude is better than dying a pointless death like the bikers did. That's enough, isn't it?" Garfield ran the same question through his mind several times, but was unable to come up with an answer. After getting sober, Garfield decided to head over to his favorite hangout spot from during his youth, a seedy establishment on the outskirts of town called _Bear in the Big Blue Brothel._

"Welcome, welcome, welcome to the blue house, Garf-baby! It sure has been a while. Where's that Lyman fella that you used to bring? Eh, guess it's not important. What can I do for ya?" A large, orange furred bear clad in a red feather coat laughed and sauntered up to where Garfield sat.

The cat smiled and handed his gargantuan nunchuks to Tutter, the doorkeeper of the brothel. "A howdy from the big bear himself? That's new. Jon always loved to come here, so I thought I'd stop by for old time's sake. So, how's the Communist War been treating you?" Garfield asked as he pulled up a seat near a group of pole dancers. Anne Frank won't stop laughing at Heathcliff comic strips.

Bear shrugged. "I can't complain. As long as their money's good, I don't care whether the people controlling the patriotverse are Communist or American. That said, I know you well enough to understand that you didn't come here for small talk, Garf-baby. Do you want a private show with Luna the Moon, or are you here for something… _else?"_ The bear lowered his normally strident voice to a whisper as he finished speaking.

"You got me, Bear. I know how well connected your people are. Your intel helped the Biker Brethren greatly during the wars. I'm searching for something very precious to me, a keepsake from an old friend. Can you tell me what happened to the _Lincoln Memorial_ when it disappeared after Americageddon?" Garfield questioned in a hushed voice.

It is said that the tale of the deity Abraham Lincoln's final fight in the Communist Wars is burned into the collective minds of all Americans. The legendary warmaster fell protecting his people and his country, savagely slain by the hand of the mightiest of all the socialist generals — _Adam Sandler._ At the moment of his passing, Honest Abe's flesh hardened into stone and gave birth to the fabled landmark known as the "Lincoln Memorial."

All of the color drained from Bear's face upon hearing Garfield's request. "Of all the things you could have asked, why _that?_ Alright, I'll tell you. But only because of everything your master did for me! I lost many good information brokers just to get their name, so listen closely. Have you ever heard of an organization called the _Harlem Globetrotters?"_ He asked. _  
_

Garfield gasped, "The Harlem Globetrotters? Yes, I've heard of them! Everyone who fought in the first Communist war has. They were a research branch of the American military founded by John Adams that specialized in making human weapons. Because of how horrific and unethical their work was, their scientists were imprisoned and their findings were destroyed near the end of the war. The leader of the project, _Meadowlark 'Benefactor' Lemon_ , later died of illness while in prison. But, what do they have to do with this?"

"Keep your voice down, Garf-baby! You never know who might be listenin' in a place like this. They're the ones responsible for its disappearance. That's all I have to tell you, you can work out the rest for yourself. Take my advice: if you want to live, don't get yourself involved in this!" Before Garfield could probe him for any further answers, Bear rose from his seat and left the room. Garfield was reminded of how he slew that cunt Doc Boy for always giving Jon shit.

Garfield held his hand to his chin, deep in thought and pious introspection, "Even after all I've done to make America great, there's still this much corruption and evil in the world? There still exist those who would do something as heinous as defiling Honest Abe-sama's grave? I wasn't sure of the path I was taking before, but now I'm certain that Larry the Cable Guy was right. Communism is the only justice left in this dark age! _Communism is the only way to save my country and bring peace to the Americaverse!"_


	9. Crazy Frog in the House

_I'd like to give a shoutout to "Suitor LP" for doing a fantastic dramatic reading of chapter 43 from Sonic the Hedgehog: Defender of America. Go check out their Youtube channel!_

* * *

 **I AM PROUD TO ANNOUNCE THAT I HAVE BEEN HIRED TO WRITE FOR THE UPCOMING FILM "GRÖWN ÜPS 3." HIDEAKI ANNO IS SLATED TO DIRECT.**

 _In an age where the influence of Communism is stronger than ever, once righteous Americans are turning towards the dark teachings of Larry the Cable Guy and his Backstreet Boys… but what does it take for a patriot to forsake his country and American freedom?_

* * *

Crazy Frog is not the man he once was.

Like all of the Backstreet Boys, he was once a proud American warrior fighting for the glory of his country. However, everything changed when the fifty-million year war between the Americans and the Communists broke out. When the time of George Washington closed in and the age of Marxism began.

In the history of the patriotverse, there had never been a conflict that was so tragic and so costly. No survivors, be they American or Communist, left that hellish battleground unchanged. It is said that the horror, the mindless rage, and the unending bloodshed of that horrible war had the power to turn even the most righteous frogs… _crazy._

Before his descent into madness, Crazy Frog's name was Kermit. He lived a simple life in the swamp with his wife, Tsuyu Asui, and his infant son, Pepe. They didn't have much, but they were never unhappy. Kermit spent his peaceful days sitting on a log and playing his banjo in the surrounding countryside. He dreamt of one day using his talents to become a famous musician to help support his family, valuing their happiness above all else.

"...The lovers, the dreamers, and me!" Kermit took a bow as he finished his latest composition. Tsuyu clapped her hands, "Ribbit! That's your best one yet, Kermie. And I think the baby liked it, too." Pepe happily gurgled and shook his rattle in response.

Kermit let out a hearty laugh as he embraced his family, "It's not easy being green, but it's much easier with you two by my side. A Muppet like me doesn't deserve to be blessed with such a great family!"

Kermit's voice went silent as the ground beneath his feet suddenly began to shake wildly. The frog dropped his banjo in the lake as he hearkened upon the sound of an explosion in the distance, confirming his worst fears.

Kermit stared up at the sky in horror as a fleet of Communist battlecruisers hovered overhead, blotting out the sun and covering the earth below in a shroud. "Get the baby inside, Tsu! And whatever you do, don't come out until I make sure it's safe!" Kermit shouted over the uproar. The Communist forces began firebombing a nearby city situated a few miles away from the swamp, annihilating its entire population in mere seconds.

Kermit gagged on the smoke in the air as he ran to survey the damage from the attack. "The Communists did this… but _why?_ We aren't at war with them, we've lived in peace for generations!" He croaked, still in shock. A dark wind blew as Kermit ambled through the desolate, deathly quiet streets of the usually bustling town in search of any survivors.

A single tear ran down Kermit's face as he beheld the flaming ruins of the Muppet Theater, the place where he had spent much of his childhood and honed his craft. As he walked through the ravaged stage inside, he could almost faintly hear the laughter and cheering that would always accompany his performances. But now, this place that once brought joy to so many was as lifeless and silent as a grave. Kermit, however, did not pity Miss Piggy's death. That bitch thot got what she deserved.

Not long after this tragic incident, the Americans and the Communists officially waged war against each other. Kermit was forced to make the most difficult decision of his life when he decided to leave his loved ones behind and fight for the glory of his country with his fellow capitalists. On that fateful day, he vowed to prevent the Communists from ever bringing harm to his family, nor to the families of his pious kinsmen.

 **MOON YEAR 1488 (Muromachi Period)**

"Wocka wocka wocka, motherfuckers! _God bless America!"_ Fozzie Bear cried as he opened fire with his minigun and mercilessly ripped through all of the enemy soldiers heading his way. Demolitions-expert Kermit the Frog dove for cover as he detonated all of the C-4 explosives he had laid, lighting up the survivors of Fozzie's fuckferocious onslaught and blowing them away.

Animal — the berserker of the fearless Muppet squadron — shrugged off countless bullet wounds as he viciously tore through the Cultural Marxist armies and bathed himself with their unholy uterine fluids and daemonic osseous remnants. Kermit and Fozzie fought side by side with their chainsaw guitars in-hand, making short work of Leon Trotsky's cadre of cybernetically enhanced Communist incels.

With nowhere left to run and only a scant few soldiers left, Trotsky and his wicked followers were forced to withdraw from the battlefield. Dr. Bunsen Honeydew unleashed his newest chemical weapons upon the Marxist lord's secret manufacturing facility, dealing him a crushing blow by ensuring that he and his men could never again return to this distant American planetoid.

While the Muppet platoon cheered and celebrated their latest victory, Kermit stayed secluded inside of his barracks. He stared longingly at a picture of his family, dreaming of better days. "It's been so long now since I've left them. Pepe was just a toddler back then, would he even recognize me when I come back? Did I really make the right choice by leaving them?" He pondered. He then pinched his brow and let out a long, hard sigh.

"Hey, rookie! C'mon, this is a party. Let's hotbox this place! You won't ever have any fun if you stayed holed up in this moldy old room all day," Fozzie Bear called out, interrupting Kermit's train of thought.

The frog shook his head. "I'm fine here, really. I'd probably just ruin everyone else's good time if I joined them. Go on without me!" Kermit insisted. Sonic the Hedgehog goes on a bold crusade to remove xenoestrogens from his diet.

Fozzie laughed heartily and shook his head. "Wocka wocka! No can do, Kermit-dono. You've gotta let loose and get tore up every once in a while! You'll never be happy if all you do is stare at that old photo all day. Come 'ere, I'll introduce you to the boyz n' the hood!" He said. Despite Kermit's insistence, Fozzie lifted the frog over his head and carried him outside by force. Steve Buscemi begins inexplicably referring to women as "roasties."

"What do you think you're doing, Fozzie? Put me down already, you mayonnaise midget motherfucker!" Kermit snarled as he wriggled free from the bear's grasp. Immediately after Kermit landed on his head, Gonzo whipped out a new keg of beer and handed the dazed frog a drink.

The unidentifiable creature smirked, "You really saved our asses out there today, ya crazy-ass frog. Drink up, you're one of the team now!"

"This… this is all for me?" Kermit asked, taken aback by the kindness of his fellow patriots. The Americans all raised their mugs and guffawed with raucous laughter.

Fozzie beamed and held up his drink, "Alright, let's give a toast to the ballsy Muppet rookie who single-handedly took down a thousand Commies today! Here's to a successful battle, and to the future of our glorious country! _Fuck yeah, America!"_

This brotherhood of righteous Americans all sat shirtless around a gasoline fire, passing around a hookah pipe and celebrating in the traditional way of their forefathers. Kermit joined his fellow Muppets in joyous song, pouring out his heart and hormonal teen frustrations as he played a furious riff on his banjo.

"Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection! The lovers, the dreamers, and me!" Kermit cried out with a death metal screech. Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem added their musical accompaniment to the frog's screamo performance, joining him as he sang a tearful tribute to the family he left behind.

For the first time since he left his swamp all those years ago, Kermit no longer felt the need to constantly keep up his guard and seclude himself from others. He had finally found a place where he belonged.

 **MOON YEAR 2004 (Heisei Period)**

After a costly war of attrition that lasted for dozens of generations, the final battle between the Americans and Communists was about to begin. After discovering the location of _Wolfschanze_ — the current base of operations for the dark wizard, _Karl Marx_ — Abraham Lincoln mobilized a fleet of ten-billion Americans to bring down the socialist homeworld and put an end to the war.

Blood and soot rained from the sky as the Muppet squadron charged towards the Communists' stronghold. Kermit the Frog fired a ballistic missile into the doors leading into Karl Marx's hells of iron, the sole means of access and egress into this legendary citadel. The besotted Muppet stood aghast, finding that his strongest weapons had little effect against the heavily reinforced entranceway.

Flanked on all sides by an army of bald eagles, Honest Abe hurled himself into the gates of Wolfschanze and instantly shattered the doors of this impenetrable citadel. Abraham Lincoln and the fearless Biker Brethren then led the charge into the streets of the fortress city.

Behind them trailed the mightiest patriotic force ever assembled in the entire history of George Washington and the Americaverse, consisting of Kermit the Frog, Fozzie Bear, and innumerable millions of other puissant American warmasters like them. As foretold in legend, _it was metal as fuck._

The death of Adolf Hitler and Karl Marx's defeat marked the beginning of a new age for the Americaverse. After many long and grueling days, the battle — and the war itself — drew to a close. Like they had done so many times in the past, the Muppet squadron celebrated with their usual drunken, minimally-clothed festivities.

"Are you sure you don't want to join the party, Kermit-dono? You'll never get a chance like this again!" Fozzie asked, stopping Kermit as he headed back to his tent.

The frog smiled and shook his head, "For once, I think I'll pass. I'm exhausted after everything that happened today. You enjoy the celebration, Fozzie. I'm going to go get some rest."

The bear shrugged his shoulders, "Alright, I won't try an' stop you. Your loss, Kermit!" Fozzie turned his head as he caught sight of _Robin the Frog_ heading towards him. The young amphibian was an orphan of the war that his platoon had encountered and took in during one of their previous conflicts. Ever since, Robin had become a valued member of the team that was eager to assist in any way he could.

"Mister Fozzie, mister Fozzie! Look at what I found on the way here!" Robin jumped for joy and held out his hands, showing him a care package he discovered in the smoking rubble of Karl Marx's domain. Fozzie Bear reeled back in shock, instantly recognizing what the young frog had unearthed.

The bear trembled with fear as he spoke, "Robin… put that thing down and step back, slowly and carefully! Commies always leave traps like these scattered around on the battlefield, waiting for some idiot desperate enough to come along and open them up. That thing is rigged to explode any minute now, it's a _BOMB!"_

Fozzie's warning came far too late. The explosives inside detonated as Robin cracked open the seal on the package, blowing his small body to pieces and sending the Americans' camp up in flames. Kermit woke up from his bed in a cold sweat, roused by the tumult of the massive explosion sounding from just outside his tent. Despite his best efforts, Alex Jones can't get the frogs to stop turning gay.

His knees buckled and all of the color drained from his face as he beheld the gruesome sight. "No… _no no no NO!_ Dear Washington, this can't be happening! It can't be, not after all we've been through!" He cried. Tears gushed down Kermit's face as he cradled Fozzie's mangled, scorched body in his arms.

 _"Ker… Kermit-senpai, y-you're alright? That… that's good to hear. I'm glad. Kermit-senpai… w-where are my fuckin' legs?"_ Fozzie Bear rasped in a weak voice. Kermit began bawling harder than ever, desperately trying to stifle the flow of blood gushing from Fozzie's half-shredded torso.

The frog wiped the tears from his eyes and forced himself to smile, "Don't… don't you worry about that, Fozzie! We're gonna fix you up, you'll be as good as new in no time! You just need to hold on a little longer. I'll go find some help!" Fozzie tightened his grip on Kermit's arm, stopping him before he could leave.

He sighed and slowly shook his head, "Kermit… there's nobody else here but us. If someone else survived, don't you think we would have heard something by now? T-They're all gone, Kermit-senpai…" Kermit bit down hard on his tongue just to stop himself from screaming as he trudged through the ruins of his platoon's campsite, finding only death no matter where he looked.

Unable to hold back his grief over the deaths of his NEET brethren any longer, his trembling legs gave way and he fell to the dirt. Kermit beat his skinny fists against the ground and wept bitterly, "This… this can't be happening! This has got to be some kind of terrible dream! That's it, a dream! This is all a dream! I'm still asleep, _none of this is real!"_

"K-Kermit-senpai… I want you to promise me something, alright? Promise me that you'll go back to your swamp and be with your family again. We all have people waiting for us at home, Kermit. Since none one us will live to return to our families, you of all people deserve to see them again!" Fozzie pleaded.

"Don't talk like that, Fozzie. You're going to make it through this, you have to! We… we'll both make it out of here alive! That's a promise!" Kermit insisted, although he knew what he said wasn't true.

Fozzie Bear smiled contently and rested his head on the grass. Blood trickled down his lip as he chuckled at the kindness of his friend, "Take care of yourself, ya crazy frog. Forgive me for this, but I'm goin' to go on ahead without you, Kermit-senpai. _Wocka… wocka…"_

 _"Fozzie…? **FOZZIIIIIIIIEEE**!"_ Kermit let out a pained scream until his voice went hoarse. His eyes protruded unnaturally from his head, and his skin took on an unhealthy, ashy blue tone. Unable to cope with the trauma of his squadrons' demise, Kermit entered into a catatonic state and shut himself off from the rest of the world. He buried his head between his legs and wept silently, all alone.

 **MOON YEAR 2005 (Heisei Period)**

After many longs months of rehabilitation, Kermit was finally deemed well enough to return to the outside world. The frog dismounted from his motorcycle and took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air of his swampland home. Kermit dropped his backpack and eagerly rushed to knock on the door of his bungalow located deep in the marsh.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming! Hold your horses. Wait a minute, just who the hell are you?" Instead of his beloved family, Kermit was greeted at the door by an elderly gay couple — _Statler_ and _Waldorf._ Taken aback by the appearance of the two strangers in his home, Kermit double-checked his map to make sure that he arrived at the right place.

Kermit stood at a loss for words, "Wait, who are you? This is my house, you're not supposed to be here! What happened to Tsu and Pepe?"

The elderly Muppets turned to each other, unsure of how to respond. "Who is this edgy faggot, anyway?" Waldorf whispered into his partner's ear.

"Where the hell have you been, kid? This entire area has been a battleground for the past dozen or so years. If anyone ever did live in this place, they'd be _long_ dead by now. Nobody could have survived that last chemical bomb that got set off. This place had been empty for months when we moved here. Now get lost!" Statler explained, and then slammed the door shut in Kermit's face.

 _"Wha… What?"_ Kermit spoke in a broken voice, barely above a whisper. He froze in place and his entire world came to a standstill. He stood at the doorstep of his home for what seemed like hours, still maintaining the same dumb grin on his face. A small part of him still expected Tsuyu and Pepe to throw open the door at any minute and tell him that everything he had just heard was all a part of some cruel joke.

And so Kermit waited. He waited day and night, through rain and snow. "Any minute now! I'll see them again, I just have to wait and be patient! They'll be here!" He thought. He kept waiting. And waiting. Life carried on, but his family never came back.

Kermit's hands trembled as he lifted up his banjo. His tears dripped onto the strings of his instrument as he played, trickling off and collecting in the river beneath where he sat. Kermit was truly inconsolable. "Why are there so many songs about rainbows? And what's on the other side…" He began to perform the song he had composed for his family, ululating harder than ever.

 _"Rainbows are visions_

 _But only illusions_

 _And rainbows have nothing to hide_

 _So we've been told_

 _And some choose to believe it_

 _I know they're wrong, wait and... bing bing_

 _Someday we'll find it, the... ring ding ding bem bem!"_

The frog's words became less and less comprehensible the longer he sang. Kermit's blubbering quickly devolved into twisted, pained screams as his song neared its end. He raked his fingernails down his cheeks and wailed with anguish, desperately begging for his suffering to end. His psyche now broken beyond repair, Crazy Frog threw back his head and shrieked without restraint at the sky, _"A ram da am da am da am da weeeeeaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAH!"_

"War is an awful thing. Wouldn't you agree?" An unfamiliar voice came from behind Crazy Frog's back. The stranger took a seat next to the grieving frog, nonchalantly scarfing down a handful of Prilosec OTC capsules. "Not gonna talk, huh? After what happened here, I can't blame you. My name's _Larry the Cable Guy._ I, too, have experienced the horrors of this war first-hand. Don't you agree that peace would be preferable?" He asked.

The frog continued to stare off into the distance, not really paying any attention to what the man had to say. Larry rose to his feet, and his long, unkempt hair blew wildly in the wind. As Crazy Frog gazed upon this stranger with the sun silhouetted behind him, he couldn't help but see this man as somehow both solemn and beautiful. Truthfully, the unearthly character appeared more like a seraph than a mere mortal man.

Although he had only just met him, Crazy Frog felt an indescribable spiritual connection with Larry the Cable Guy. The towering figure thinly smiled and reached out his hand, "I wish to bring peace to the Americaverse so that no tragedy such as this can ever befall our beautiful country again. By any means necessary, even if it means employing the methods of our enemy, I will make this peace a reality. Will you join me as we journey towards the light, Crazy Frog?"

Without hesitation, Crazy Frog took his hand and sealed his fate. _The age of the Backstreet Boys was about to begin._


	10. Welcome to the Terrordome

**THERE'S NOTHING THE GLOBALISTS HATE MORE THAN NEW CHAPTERS OF SONIC THE HEDGEHOG: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN. WE'RE BREAKING THE CONDITIONING!**

 _Determined to rescue his son from the clutches of the Communist empire, Sonic and his brotherhood of steel depart into the uncharted depths of Marxist space… but will their newfound strength be enough to topple the Backstreet Boys' elite soldiers?_

* * *

 **Current Location of Richard Nixon:**

 **Secret Maximum-Security Prison Planetoid, _Stalingrad III_**

"I applaud you on a job well done, Larry the Cable Guy! Thanks to your strike force's actions, the Communist-Hunter will no longer be a thorn in the flesh of our glorious socialist empire. I was hesitant at first to give this task to a lowly group of American defectors, but I can now see that it was a wise choice. You have served the proletariat well!" Fidel Castro — the mightiest of the Communist Underlords and the former general of Karl Marx's armies — warmly praised.

"You are far too kind, my lordship…" Larry the Cable Guy fell upon one knee and humbly prostrated himself before the Marxist lord. He smiled and planted a gentle kiss upon Fidel Castro's glistening Super Bowl ring, the symbol of this cruel warmaster's divine authority over all living beings in the Americaverse and its neighboring galaxies.

Fidel Castro rose from his golden throne, dwarfing Larry with his gargantuan stature. He gave a short, sardonic laugh, "With those filthy, bourgeois patriots dealt with, the centennial _Summit of the Communist Lords_ is sure to go off without a hitch! On that day, all of the American inmates of this great prison shall be publicly executed as a show of Communism's divine might. Never again will the lowly American scum dare to question our rightful position as the true masters of the patriotverse!"

Fidel Castro gazed out from his watchtower, proudly surveying the Communists' impenetrable prison facility that doubled as his base of operations. In its century-long history, not even a single American has managed to escape from the planet Stalingrad III alive. The scant number of patriots that have been able to flee from this hellish fortress were all quickly wiped out once they reached the frozen wasteland on the outside, a barren tundra crawling with all manner of godless, abyssal hellbeasts. After Americageddon, it was not an uncommon occurrence for American soldiers to take their own lives rather than be sent this place.

Castro's maniacal ranting was interrupted when Lil' Wayne, an elite Communist guard, suddenly barged into the room. "S-Sheeeeiit, my lord! That renegade American warrior we've been searching for, _The Round Mound of Rebound,_ has struck again! We've just received word that he decapitated Peter Kropotkin, one of the nine remaining Communist Underlords, and then used his severed head as a basketball! It was pretty fuckin' brutal," The man panted, out of breath from rushing to the zenith of Fidel Castro's stronghold.

Castro snapped upon hearing the news his subordinate brought. Lil' Wayne trembled with fear as his enraged master approached him, the veins on his forehead bulging from his boundless, untameable fuckfury. Steve Buscemi's new weave is a surprise hit.

"That is most unfortunate indeed. Unfortunate for _you,_ I should say. There is nothing I hate more in this world than bad news and those who fail me! Now that you've brought this to my attention, there is only one way to assuage this hellraging niggerfury of mine…" The Communist lord licked his lips as he spoke.

Fidel Castro unhinged his jaw and devoured Lil' Wayne whole, ignoring the rapper's pained screams as he grinded his swarthy body to paste with his razor-sharp fangs. Larry the Cable Guy watched on casually as his master spat out one of his subordinate's severed legs and wiped the cartilage from his chin, concluding his meal.

Unlike Karl Marx and the Communist nobility of old that cared greatly for their men, Fidel Castro was infamous for his acts of inhumane brutality against his own soldiers. Castro shot Larry the Cable Guy a fierce glare, "You'd do well not to incur my wrath, understand? Unlike that piece of trash, it would be a shame to lose you. You Backstreet Boys are an extremely valuable asset! I trust that you already have a plan to deal with this 'phantom baller' character as well, right?"

The Cable Guy performed a submissive curtsy, "You know me all too well, Fidel Castro-sama. I've entrusted _Brendan Fraser_ to Git-R-Done and silence the rest of those who would dare to question your rule. His drive ability, **「Beastie Boys」** , should be more than enough to deal with the capitalist scum. I'll admit, that horrific power he possesses unnerves even me!"

Fidel Castro let out a hearty laugh, "Good, very good indeed! You'd best not disappoint me, Cable Guy." The depraved Communist took a large bite out of Lil' Wayne's skull before finishing his sentence, "...Or _else!"_

After leaving Castro's inner sanctum, Larry the Cable Guy looked over his shoulder to ensure that he wasn't being followed. He rolled up the sleeve of his plaid robes, revealing a basketball-shaped communication device attached to his wrist.

He held the mouthpiece up to his face and spoke in a hushed voice, "Harlem Globetrotters Intelligence? This is field operative Larry the Cable Guy, code name Globie. Tell _Meadowlark Lemon_ that our infiltration is going exactly according to plan. Very soon, the patriotverse shall once again be under our complete control…"

* * *

"Nigga nigga nigga nigga! I'm 100% nigga!" Sonic the Hedgehog proudly sang despite being a dirty white boy. He wildly flailed his electric guitar over his head, ferociously slashing through every inbred Communist soldier in his path. Alex Jones let out a throaty war cry as he bisected a Marxist pterodactyl right down the middle, drenching his shirtless body with the hellbeast's fading life force.

This righteous brotherhood of sweaty bikers fought in low orbit of the planet _Neo New Jersey Beta,_ a former American colony that had since fallen under Communist occupation. Sonic's steely, vengeful gaze peered out from the visor of his space helmet, striking fear into the hearts of his sodomous enemies. The fearless patriots advanced riding astride their motorcycles, staring down the faceless hordes standing before them without fear.

Sonic swung his chainsaw and clashed with the socialists head-on in a fuckriot of blood and burning rubber. "Nigga nigga nigga nigga! I'm 200% nigga!" The hedgehog bayed inarticulately as he dug his blood-soaked saw into their cybernetic armor. Flushed with the grace of George Washington's divine fury, Sonic sent the remainder of his foes flying into the abyss with but a single stroke of his mighty guitar _._

"Wait, that can't be! Are you...?" Sonic was rendered speechless as he gawked upon a faint silhouette standing in the smoke of his latest onslaught. With the basketball in the man's hand and the _Tune Squad_ jersey that covered his magnificent physique, his identity was unmistakable for any American. Sonic the Hedgehog was gazing upon _Michael Jordan._

"I'm telling you that I really did see Air Jordan! After that, he didn't say a word and flew right down to this planet. I might be high as fuck now, but I wasn't when I saw it!" Sonic insisted as his motorcycle touched down on the planet beneath.

Alex Jones seemed unconvinced, "Are you sure about that, little cuz? It was probably just a _GLOBALIST_ trick. After all, didn't that Jordan guy sacrifice himself while fighting one of Karl Marx's elite soldiers? That's what the rumors I've heard say, at least."

"Could what Method Woman said before be true? Has Michael Jordan-senpai really just been in hiding all this time? Or did she mean that someone else had survived Americageddon?" The hedgehog thought to himself. Without any leads to go on, Sonic decided to enter a dingy tavern and press the locals for information on Michael Jordan's whereabouts.

Sonic turned his head as he heard the sound of the bar's front door creaking open behind him. Out stepped _Father Jimmy Neutron,_ a traveling missionary clad in a priest's vestment and toting a copy of the Holy Bible in his hand. The man combed back his gigantic anime hair and pulled up a stool next to Sonic and his two companions.

His face was scorched red from the harsh sun of this desert world, and judging by his figure he hadn't had a single meal for days. "Hey! Someone get a drink for my friend over here. And make sure it doesn't have any fluoride!" Alex Jones called out, taking pity on the stranger.

"Sweet Jesus…" Beads of sweat trickled down Jimmy Neutron's face as he ogled one of the bar's waitresses from the back. He then mumbled something unintelligible under his breath about her being "thick."

Overcome with pious fucklust, the gentlemanly priest rose from his chair and began to work his finest courting techniques upon her. "Hey babe. How about you and me get nipple to nipple? By that, I mean that I want to fuck you behind a dumpster," Jimmy Neutron propositioned. The waitress then swooned over his daring.

Sonic turned to Trump and slowly shook his head. He scoffed at the priest, "Flirting with women? Pshht, what a goddamn beta. A real alpha male would just whip out his dick right then and there. Some niggaz ain't got no game, you feel me?" Donald Trump, however, was too busy trying to light the bar on fire to pay any attention.

Father Jimmy Neutron turned around and slammed his fist on the counter. "The hell did you just say about me and my game, you bitch-ass sinners? I'll have you know that bein' a boss pimp like me ain't easy. You'd best place your hand on this here bible of mine and pray for forgiveness before I whoop yo ass!" He growled.

Donald Trump crinkled his brow, scrutinizing the cover of the holy book. "That says _The Bibble._ Just what kind of priest are you, anyway? You seem more like a pimp to me," He questioned. Alex Jones begins rubbing melted butter all over his body for no reason.

"Y-Yamete! You dare question our lord and savior, heretic?" Father Neutron snarled. At the exact same instant, Jimmy Neutron pulled out his twin crucifix pistols and Donald Trump produced his flaming swords.

Trump puckered his lips and thrust out his groin. He cooed with pleasure, "Mmm, I wonder what wondrous screams you'll add to my symphony of the dead? I look forward to sending you up in flames, fuckboy!"

Sonic and Alex Jones threw back the rest of their beer as Donald Trump and Jimmy Neutron participated in a duel to the death, not overly concerned with the events that were transpiring.

"Looks like our magnificent golden toad has gotten his ass into trouble again. On another note, I can't be the only one that thinks there's something badly wrong with this place, right little cuz? There's not a single person in the streets, and the windows of all the houses are bolted shut. Now that I think about it, this bar is the only business in town! It's almost like we were _meant_ to come here," Alex Jones pontificated over a glass of filtered water.

Sonic removed the joint from his mouth and nodded in agreement. "You've got a point, filter-man. As high as I am, even I can see that something isn't adding up here. Do you think those damn Commies could have used the image of Michael Jordan to lure us here?" He asked.

"Well, I was going to say that the _GLOBALISTS_ were behind this, but that theory works too!" Alex Jones concurred.

Beads of nervous sweat trickled down the bartender's forehead as he overheard their conversation. "S-Shit, the Americans are onto us! Someone inform Lord Fraser that the operation's been compromised. We've got no choice but to activate the _Terrordome!"_ Porky Pig, the proprietor of the bar, flipped on a switch hidden underneath the beer taps and scrambled to safety.

Not long after, metal shutters fell down over all of the windows and exits of the tavern, sealing the group of righteous Americans inside. Sonic tore his studded belt asunder and fired off a deadly salvo from his chode that blew a hole straight through the steel curtain that blanketed the building. The Americans then stepped out of the exit that Sonic had created and headed for the center of the town. However, little did they know that the Communist armies had an even greater trap lying in wait for them.

Donald Trump's flaxen chest hairs stood on end, a sign as old as the Americaverse itself to predict an oncoming disaster. A fleet of Communist battlecruisers suddenly emerged from the cover of the clouds carrying a monolithic, completely featureless black dome.

The rays of the sun were eclipsed by the impenetrable structure as it was lowered down by a series of chains. The dome was then locked into place by burying the 1,488 spikes jutting out alongside its perimeter several feet into the earth, effectively cutting off the deserted town from the outside world. "Lord have mercy…" Father Jimmy Neutron trembled with terror as he traced a cross over his heart for protection.

"Are you weak-ass Commies still tryna' mirk me? I ain't got any time for this, I've got a country to save! All you bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks!" Sonic shouted at the barrier that blocked his escape route, greatly infuriated. After the Communist's secret weapon, the dreaded "Terrordome", had been sealed in place, all of the electronic devices in the vicinity switched on and began to play a pre-recorded message.

A holographic projection of a large rooster-like creature suddenly spread across the interior of the Terrordome. "...Boy, I say, boy, you Americans have all fallen right into our master's trap! Now that you're locked in this here Terrordome, there's no chance of you surviving. I say, absolutely no chance! You boys are about as sharp as a ho's titties. Little did you know, this place is already swarmin' with Commie bounty hunters lookin' to make a name for themselves. Since you've got nowhere to run, these boys are gon' hunt you down and deliver you to our glorious leader: _Brendan Fraser_ of the Backstreet Boys!" The mysterious character, Foghorn Leghorn, announced over the many speakers lining the dome.

Thousands of Communist mercenaries emerged from the cover of darkness and began flooding the streets, all armed to the teeth and thirsting for godless savagery. The holographic rooster continued, "The rules, I say, the rules of this deadly game are the same as always! You capture one of the Americans and you receive a cash prize depending on their assigned difficulty level. Bag 'em all and you become one of the richest men in the patriotverse! Do you get the general gist of what I'm conveyin' here, son? Now that you understand the workings of this here Terrordome, your targets are as follows..."

The projection of Foghorn Leghorn disappeared and was instead replaced by a series of mugshots, all captioned with the prize money for each target and a brief overview of their strengths and weaknesses.

 **"Chill of Death" Ice Cube** — Reward: Ten Billion Shekels

Ice Cube unzipped his sleeping bag and rose from his resting place on the side of the road, awoken by the approaching army of Marxists. "What's going on now? What the hell's with all that noise? Ah, fuck it. Doesn't concern me, I'm sure. I'm going back to sleep…" Ice Cube yawned and rolled over, zipping up his bag entirely so that even his face was covered. Miraculously, he wasn't spotted by the mob of Communist bounty hunters that trudged past him.

 **"Pope Sweet Jesus" Jimmy Neutron** — Reward: Five Hundred Million Shekels

Jimmy Neutron clasped his hands together and began to pray, "Forgive me for this, lord. I'm about to commit one hell of a sin up in this bitch. Priests need nuns, doctors need nurses, pimps need ho's, and Commies need me to _blow their motherfuckin' brains out!"_ The priest opened his bible, revealing the secret compartment hidden between the pages where he stored his silver pistol.

 **"Round Mound of Rebound" Real Name Unknown** — Reward: Eight Billion Shekels

This enigmatic basketball player stood shorts-deep in a puddle of Communist blood and afterbirth. In his swarthy hands he dribbled the severed heads of his philistine enemies, the trophies he would keep from the aftermaths of his massacres. Even someone as twisted and perverse as Sonic the Hedgehog would be disgusted by the grisly sight.

"Hm? It's gotten dark all of a sudden. Geez, did I already kill everyone before the real game even started?" He muttered under his breath. He ran his forked tongue up and down his arm, lapping up the blood trickling down his various sports bracelets.

 **"Globalist Slayer" Alex Jones** — Reward: One Billion Shekels

"Things are starting to get interesting around here! If we're going to escape from this prison planet, I'll need to utilize my strongest supplement yet: _BRAIN FORCE!"_ The info warrior let out an unrestrained, masculine gorilla screech that deflowered every virgin that hearkened upon its majesty. His body radiated with raw energy as his pineal gland decalcified, signalling that his body and mind were prepared for the impending battle.

 **"Communist-Hunter" Sonic the Hedgehog** — Reward: Seven Billion Shekels

Sonic spent his time carving a crude portrait of a nude, headless woman fornicating with a dinosaur on the back of his electric guitar. Whether his careless attitude was due to him being blazed out of his mind or simply because of his confidence in his own strength, none could say.

Sonic frowned disapprovingly as he stared upon the final product. He swore, "Fuck! I knew I should have made her rack bigger. The dinosaur, I mean…" Like all men of the lord, Sonic the Hedgehog was a _Scalie._

 **"Serial Arsonist" Donald Trump** — Reward: Four Billion Shekels

"Hey, Sonic-kun! How about you say we drain the swamp and murderize the fuck out of these Commies?" Trump proposed. Sonic laid down his guitar and smirked, "Do you even need to ask at this point? The answer is always going to be _hell yeah, motherfucker!"_


	11. The Wall Just Got Ten Feet Higher

**SUGGESTED LISTENING: "I LIT YOUR BABY ON FIRE" BY ANAL CUNT**

 _After being trapped under the Communist's secret weapon, the dreaded "Terrordome", Sonic the Hedgehog and his fellow patriots now find themselves up against a raging army of Marxist soldiers… but will they be able to survive Brendan Fraser's deadly game?_

* * *

 **Day 1 — 5 Hours Since the Sealing of the Terrordome**

"With a _BANG!_ Say goodbye to everything! Your complete annihilation is the reason I came!" Donald Trump danced in a conga line across the battlefield, leaving in his wake a swath of napalm and scorched Communist corpses.

The president-elect spread his hands to reveal the cybernetic nodes implanted in his palms, the signature 'killing instruments' in his orchestra. The device on his left hand was capable of spraying highly flammable Zyklon B gas, and its counterpart on his right hand was made to ignite the gas. In the holy pursuit of making America great again and defeating the socialist menace, no weapon was too harsh.

The heavenly golden dragon tipped his fedora and hurled a raging phallus of fire at his enemies. He continued his deadly song, "And a _POW!_ I'm wiping everything out! I'll turn your whole fucking world into a mushroom cloud!"

Trump's fuckferocious hurricane of flames instantly blew all of the Marxists in sight away, paving the streets with their cinders and adorning the rooftops with their roasted viscera and loins. An hour into his wedding, Garfield still doesn't realize that his anime body pillow bride isn't actually alive.

"And a _BOOM!_ It's your inevitable doom! Nobody escapes and everybody's consumed!" Trump cackled with sadistic, lusty glee. He removed his velour hat and took a bow, concluding his symphony of death.

Jimmy Neutron crinkled his nose in disgust, "Goddamn! That nigga needs Jesus…"

Unwilling to be shown up by Donald Trump, Jimmy somersaulted into the midst of the heated clash to assist his fellow patriots. Jimmy Neutron sloshed his face and anime hair with a mixture of holy water and Mountain Dew® Game Fuel, a potent aphrodisiac made to enhance his latent combat skills and ward off lesser helldaemons.

"My fists are full of faith! Dolemite Kenpō Style: _Ribbed for Her Pleasure!"_ Jimmy's cowlick stood on end and his feather coat blew in the wind behind him as he entered into his signature fighting stance. He then swung his crucifix-shaped pimp cane over his head with unparalleled grace, splitting open the skulls of an entire platoon of Commie mercenaries and splattering their blood on the pavement.

Trump raised an eyebrow in response. "Hm? Now _this_ is unexpected! Weren't we just trying to kill each other a few minutes ago, Mr. Priest? Why lend me the assist?" He asked with bemused interest as Jimmy wiped the cartilage from his priestly robes.

Reverend Jimmy Neutron chuckled as he bashed the face of a Marxist soldier in with his golden pimp rings. He lowered his shutter shades and smirked, "Don't get the wrong idea, you rat-soup-eatin', insecure honky motherfucker. Before I found God, I used to be a lot like you. Maybe even worse! I was once the right hand man of the infamous 'pope of pimps', _Carl Wheezer._ Back when I was in the game, many innocent bitches fell to my hand. I don't intend to let you die until I have you witness the glory of our lord and savior like I did! Can ya dig it, brotha?"

Donald Trump sneered at his words. "So, you think you can manage to redeem a stone cold bastard like myself? Then I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Priest! Many have tried. You'd have an easier time trying to get Sonic-kun to stop shooting Communists with his dick than get me to change my arsonistic ways!" He scoffed, turning face to begin bombarding the socialist forces once more.

Sonic shouted at the top of his lungs with impotent fuckferocity and his cock blazing. He mowed down thousands of Communist bounty hunters in a single instant, infinitely faster than the blink of an eye, furiously thrashing his head all the while. He raised his guitar to the heavens and proceeded to rock out to the black metal of the gods, sending the sodomous hordes beneath his steely gaze into a panic.

"What the fuck's going on here? Am I even higher than usual, or have I been in this exact situation before?" Sonic muttered under his breath. The hedgehog came crashing down to earth with his electric guitar in-hand and cleanly sliced _Vladimir Lenin_ in two. He did a double take as he stared upon the faceless hordes of Commies, beginning to recognize many familiar faces mixed in with their foul ranks.

"...You ever heard of the Dream Team? Well, we're the Mean Team, wussy man!" The five members of the _Monstars_ snickered with glee as they hurled themselves at Sonic. Still disoriented, the blood-soaked hedgehog dropped his smoking joint and dove out of harm's way without a second to spare.

Sonic gritted his teeth, "Now I know that I've done this shit before! These are the same Commies that Michael Jordan and Garfield slew back when I was in the Biker Brethren. But, they're all supposed to be dead!" Nobody has the heart to tell Steve Buscemi that "meme magic" isn't actually real.

He turned his head and watched as Alex Jones struggled with another old enemy of the United States of America, _Joseph Stalin,_ confirming his worst fears. Brendan Fraser, the mastermind behind the Terrordome and one of Larry the Cable Guy's elite soldiers, possessed the horrific ability to raise the dead.

"I wanna let ya'll sinners know that Jimmy Neutron is my name, and fuckin' up motherfuckers is my game!" Jimmy Neutron withdrew his crucifix pistols and opened fire, pumping the Monstars full of lead before they could strike again. He then hopped in his Cadillac and drove doughnuts around their corpses whilst playing Christian rock music, a most dishonorable act. The warrior priest suddenly stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a gravelly, inhuman whine call out from behind him.

A monolithic, cyclopean archdaemon covered in tumors and open sores lumbered over the corpses of the Monstars, dwarfing Father Neutron with its vast menace. Sonic shoved past the bewildered priest to stare down the repugnant creature, showing no fear. Standing before him was none other than _Taylor Swift,_ the source of much of Sonic's star-spangled ire for having taken the life of his comrade and adoptive son, Charles Barkley, six yahrens ago. He then thought back to Sir Charles's final moments, an event that still haunted him to this day.

* * *

 _"...I'm going to show you the true power of the American race, you Communist motherfucker! GOD BLESS AMERICA!" Sonic summoned the godlike powers of George Washington and the entire omniverse into his fingertips. Righteous tears streamed endlessly down his face as he performed the ultimate sacrifice for the Americaverse and his blameless people, wholly incinerating both Taylor Swift and Charles Barkley with a single blast._

* * *

He removed his guitar from its leather case and cracked a bloodthirsty grin, "Well, if it isn't Taylor Swift. I never thought I'd get another opportunity to pay you back, you piece of shit. And by pay you back, I mean that I'm going to sodomize your fuckin' face with my chainsaw!"

The blasphemous, abominable creature cackled at the hedgehog's bold challenge, "You really think you possess the might to destroy me, you silly little American? _Kyaaah!_ That's just adorable. You only managed to destroy me before because of the sacrifice of your pathetic friend! This time, I'll reduce your existence to a _blank space_ and wipe you from the face of this ear—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Sonic the Hedgehog plummeted from the sky in a ball of holy astral fuckfire and hewed her turkey neck in two with a single stroke of his guitar. Her body collapsed and spasmed upon the ground in agony, spewing out her lifeforce from the cloven stump where her head once was. The hedgehog tore his shirt asunder and raised his guitar skyward, basking in the aftermath of his carnage whilst thoroughly soaked with the viscid blood of his enemy. He passionately screeched without restraint at the moon, "White pride, _WORLDWIDE!"_

The hedgehog spat upon the brutalized corpse of his revived foe as he swaggered past. "Did you really think I hadn't changed in all this time? For these past six years, I've been faced with some of the most terrifying, monstrously powerful Commies you could ever imagine. Many times, I've only survived within an inch of my life. But for the sake of those I cared about, I made a promise to myself: _I'm never gonna lose to a Communist again._ Especially not one as fuckin' weak as you!" He spoke in a firm, resolute voice.

Alex Jones's inverted nipples hardened in anticipation as he sensed the auras of three immensely powerful figures approach from the darkness. Naturally, as any man of the lord would, he was quick to assume that the Globalists were behind this.

The trio of ghastly, subhuman demonkin that apparated before them were the mightiest of Brendan Fraser's undead army, creatures so horrible that even the McDemons of the netherworld once feared their names. Although their true names had been long since lost to history, the American warlords of ancient times referred to them as such: _Count Chocula, Frankenberry,_ and _Boo Berry._

Donald Trump obstructed his arm in front of his sweaty, musclebound compatriots, stopping them before they could charge back into battle. He turned his head and spoke with a voice full of confidence, "Kindly move aside, Mr. Hedgehog. I'll handle these three myself. Ever since we arrived here, I've been lusting for worthy opponents to test my newfound Patriotic Drive abilities upon. This unbeatable power that will shake the very foundation of the Americaverse to its core… I have named it **「** **Another Brick in the Wall** **」**!"

An assortment of 1,488 ethereal, faintly visible bricks suddenly appeared and formed a glimmering halo around Trump's head. Suspended by nothing but his patriotic spirit, they flew into the air and congregated into a new shape. The surviving Communists cautiously stepped backwards at the sight, far too terrified to make any sudden movements or escape.

Sonic leaned back and chuckled at his partner's ingenuity, "Hmph, well I'll be damned. That dicksleeve really managed to pull it off. A wall… he's using the power of his spirit to _conjure a giant wall made out of bricks!"_


	12. Count Chocula's Monster Mash (Pt 1)

**I AM PROUD TO ANNOUNCE THAT I WILL BE ATTENDING THE "GATHERING OF THE JUGGALOS" IN 2017. MY FANFICTION BOOTH WILL BE LOCATED ACROSS FROM THE URINAL TROUGHS.**

 _After learning the secret of Brendan Fraser's power to raise the dead, Sonic the Hedgehog and his comrades now find themselves up against some of the most infamous Communists from the history of the Americaverse. Will Donald Trump's new ability be a match for them?_

* * *

Garfield hesitantly creaked open the door leading into the private study of his commander, Larry the Cable Guy. Although he had pledged his life to the cause of the Backstreet Boys and Communism itself, there was still much the feline did not know about the inner machinations of the man he had chosen to follow.

While he had a history with Larry going back for generations, in many ways he still felt like a stranger to Garfield. With the exception of Jon Arbuckle, Garfield had never met another man who was as quite as difficult to read as Larry the Cable Guy was. Even if it was only for a moment, he was determined to learn more about his master's motives and the mysterious plan he had devised to bring peace to the patriotverse.

Garfield nervously stepped into his chamber and began to speak, "Lord Cable Guy? We've just received word that… Oh, please forgive my intrusion! I didn't realize that you were busy. I'll come back late—"

"What do you wish to say, child? You know that I consider all of our holy order to be a part of my own family. Apologies aren't necessary. Is something troubling you?" Larry rose from his spot on the floor, having been prostrating to an idol of George Washington in prayer. As was tradition, Larry the Cable Guy wore only a loincloth while praying.

Garfield gulped, "Y-Yes, forgive me! I wanted to say that the American forces have been captured by Brendan Fraser as planned. But, may I ask… what are you doing in this place?"

The Cable Guy smiled and ruffled the hair atop Garfield's head. He began to speak in a low, calming voice, "This is my place of patriotic prayer. What, did you believe I am solely loyal to Communism? Like all pious Americans, I too worship the deities of old. I believe that, for our continued survival, we Americans must embrace Cultural Marxism whilst also paying tribute to our old ways. To save our country, we must use _any_ means necessary, after all. I often come to this place to meditate, hoping to unravel the ancient secrets of our country."

"The… secrets of our country?" Garfield asked, puzzled.

Larry nodded, "Even now, there is still much we do not understand about our world. The _gifts of George Washington,_ the _'cycle of time',_ the six _Joker's Cards,_ the secret of the _'Berenstein'_ universe, and the number _1488._ Together, they are the five great keys to enlightenment. Tupac Shakur once prophesied that whoever learns of their secrets will discover the truth of all things. It's very interesting, no?"

Garfield clenched his fists and worked up the courage to speak his mind. "Cable Guy-sensei, please tell me this one thing: what is your plan for the Americaverse? When will all of this bloodshed end? I... I can't got on fighting and killing my own people like this! When will we finally have the peace you promised?" He blurted out, no longer moderating his conflicted feelings. Crazy Frog begins teaching himself how to use chaos magick with the hope of restoring his foreskin.

Larry took no offense to the feline's outburst. Instead, he maintained the same perfectly composed demeanor and answered his question, "You make it seem as if I am hiding something from you, vice-commander. Trust me when I say that I have told you the truth and only the truth. Your heroic acts won't go unrewarded. Many may die as our plan enters its final stages, but _America shall finally have peace…"_

 **Day 1 — 10 Hours Since the Sealing of the Terrordome**

Count Chocula passionately thrust out his crotch to the left and right as he performed the _Dougie,_ a holy ritual of intimidation dating back to the Edo period. Frankenberry and Boo Berry put their arms out in front of them and leaned from side to side with their hips gyrating furiously, joining their ignoble taichō in his tribal dance.

Chocula then backed it up, dumped it, and spun around in a circle with his right hand firmly affixed to his groin. Boo Berry and his ghoulish partner fell upon one knee and formed an East Side gang sign with both hands, striking a menacing pose alongside their master.

As to not incur their wrath, all of the surviving Marxists in the arena subserviently lowered their gazes and applauded their superior's ostentatious entrance. Sonic furrowed his brow and shot the trio a genocidal glare, "I'm too high to deal with all this shit right now. Just who the hell're these sorry-ass wiggers?"

"Ayo, I'm that gorilla dick nigga. I make dyke pussy wet!" Count Chocula formally introduced himself to the hedgehog whilst flashing various gang signs with his men. The count was clad in an ensemble befitting his bombastic personality, sporting a neon blue top hat, a gaudy yellow jacket, pink mesh gloves on both hands, latex chaps, and a silver codpiece affixed to his loins. Additionally, twelve impractically large Cuban cigars jutted out from between his painted lips, completing his signature look.

Chocula removed a roll of cash from his wallet and showered the Communist mercenaries grovelling at his feet with money as he approached, leaning back as far as he physically could as he walked. Alex Jones faces a moral dilemma when he is seduced by a particularly attractive goblin.

"C-Count Chocula, you finally came! These bourgeois fuckers're nothin' like Fraser-sama described, they're totally insane! Please, you've gotta take those tosspot bastards down and avenge the proletariat!" The red Monstar, Nawt, pathetically blubbered. He crawled over to him and tugged on the hem of Chocula's pants, interrupting his swagger. The daemonic chieftain wrinkled his nose as he stared upon the half-dead creature splayed out before him, feeling only contempt and disgust.

Count Chocula hoisted the Monstar up by his throat and began to speak, "Ayo, hold the fuck up. Here I am livin' it large n' shit, and you're grovelling at my feet beggin' for mercy? Not everybody gets the opportunity to come back from the grave, so I intend to spend my new life livin' as _flashy_ as I can possibly be. But what I can't stand are hollyhock motherfuckers like you who waste this precious gift by livin' just as pathetically as they did in their past lives! You sicken me, kid. But don't worry, I'll put you back in the dirt while you're still beautiful."

"Stay _flashy:_ **「Chocolate Jesus」**!" Count Chocula boomed as he activated his infamous assassination technique. The Monstar at his feet cried in agony as all of his flesh boiled and melted away from his body, an excruciatingly painful way to perish that even the most depraved of Communist lords would be sickened by. Boo Berry and Frankenberry continued to flash their gang signs in the meantime.

Trump's feline eyes opened wide in response, "This man's clearly not any ordinary Commie. Am I mistaken, or did he just use the—?"

"Patriotic Drive? It would seem so. Guess he's not a _GLOBALIST_ after all. He's just another American _TRAITOR_ like the Backstreet Boys! It looks like you've finally found the perfect pinko bastard to test your new power on, little cuz," Alex Jones finished Donald's sentence for him, having came to the same conclusion.

Donald Trump shoved past Sonic and Jimmy Neutron as he came to face his undead challenger. Count Chocula shuffled around in his fish tank platform shoes and met the American's murderous gaze with a smug grin, "Ayo, don't you get what the fuck's goin' on down here, you test tube gub gub snail man? If I die again, Brendan Fraser can just bring me back to life as many times as needed. There's no chance in hell of you escaping the Terrordome, you're already as good as dead with us around!"

"...You seem to misunderstand your current situation, fuckboy. I'm not trapped in here with you. You're trapped in here with me — _BIGLY!"_ Donald Trump guffawed with righteous laughter. Using his own 'Patriotic Drive' ability, Trump produced a massive wall of bricks in midair and hurled it at his woefully under-prepared foe. He then cackled with tantric, robust glee and uttered the name of his killer move, "You have to go back... **「Another Brick in the Wall」**!"

This great wall of fuckfury instantly shattered on contact with Count Chocula's face and propelled him backwards with the same force as being plowed down by ten thousand consecutive semi trucks. Trump spared the pitiable fuckmeister before his beady gaze no mercy, immediately following up his attack by bombarding him with dozens more flying walls produced by his mind.

"C-Count Chocula!" Frankenberry and Boo Berry both cried out in unison. They immediately darted through the ruins of Trump's fuckferocious onslaught and began sifting through the rubble in search of their commander. Steve Buscemi has a panic attack after running out of dipping sauce for his chicken tendies.

Without warning, Chocula jolted upright and smacked his subordinates down with the back of his pimp hand. "Ayo, get the fuck offa' me! It's been thousands of years since I've met a nigga who could fight with me on even terms, and I won't have you two chuckle-fuckers screw it up by gettin' in my way. The question is, whose _flashiness_ will reign supreme? Mine, or yours?" He fearlessly challenged the president-elect despite having been beaten to a pulp by him seconds before.

The count and Donald Trump stared each other down in the middle of this desert wasteland, waiting with bated breath to see who would make the first move. Chocula lunged and cleared the gap between them in an instant, poised to slice straight through the American's throat with his bloody talons.

Trump tossed his designer scarf over his shoulder and shrugged, clearly unimpressed. He snickered, "You're going to have to do better than that, choir-boy! Pitiful tactics like this aren't even enough to turn me on. Allow me to show you the true art of the deal!"

By manipulating the prima materia of the Americaverse itself, Donald Trump conjured a wall of ether around himself to act as a shield from the Communist's strike. Instead of changing his course as Trump assumed he would, Chocula instead increased his speed and took his attack head-on. The American warrior reeled backwards as Chocula reached out his hand and melted the wall he had created, reducing it to a semi-fluid puddle on the sand.

Trump dove out of harm's way at the last possible second, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow from the count's horrific ability. He paused to collect his wits, still in shock, "H-How did he...? If he could have used that melting ability on my 'spirit walls' this entire time, why didn't he do so during my previous attack? Could it be that he actually _allowed_ himself to be injured to fool me into letting my guard down? Hmph, it appears I underestimated him. He'll make a fine addition to my symphony of the dead after all!"

Donald Trump gritted his teeth as he and his savage opponent came to blows. Count Chocula drew back his glossy lips and cracked a sickeningly superior grin as he fended him off with ease, "Ayo, how d'ya like that? My power is the _flashiest_ in all the world! **「Chocolate Jesus」** can make anything take on the physical properties of chocolate. And in this desert heat, it's sure to melt instantly. Your weak-ass walls can't even hope to compete!"

The count sent Trump flying backwards with a lightning-fast kick to his ribs, rupturing several of his internal organs in the process. Wasting no time in counter-attacking, the flaxen-haired warlord used his flames to launch himself back into the fray. Trump conjured hundreds of miniature brick walls and wrapped them around his outstretched arm, forming a gigantic wall fist wreathed with blue fire. He bared his fangs and screeched at the moon with sadistic glee, "Finishing move: _Balls to the Wall!"_

The planet's crust began to quake wildly as Trump's gargantuan fist landed and sent a whirlwind of sand and brutalized Commie corpses flying from the sheer force of his attack. Chocula effortlessly liquefied all of the debris hurtling his way, still maintaining the same perfectly relaxed, assured demeanor about him, almost as if he still had something else up his sleeve.

Donald Trump followed up his strike by launching a maelstrom of brick walls in the count's direction, each surrounded by an inferno of crimson flames. The vampire placed both of his hands on the ground and melted the terrain, allowing him to burrow beneath the sand to avoid the American's desperate attack.

After the salvo had concluded, Chocula emerged from his dwelling hole and sneered at Trump's vain efforts, "Ayo, is that really the _flashiest_ you've got? Tch, and here I thought I finally found a nigga hard enough to take me on. I guess it's about time we finish thi—"

 _"N-Nani?!"_ Chocula stopped dead in his tracks as he felt the warm sensation of someone breathing on his neck from behind. Trump had somehow managed to make it behind him undetected during the few brief seconds that he was gloating. Cold sweat trickled down the count's face and a feeling of primal terror overtook him, almost as if he were staring death itself right in the face.

"W-What the hell's going on? This cracker... he's just a man, right? But, why do I feel so goddamn terrified by him? I've never felt such murderous intent from a single person before. If I don't move now, I'm going to die!" He thought to himself, starting to panic. Chocula's face turned a deathly pale, and he trembled uncontrollably with fear. The count tried his hardest to move, but found his body totally unreceptive to his commands. Donald Trump finally had Count Chocula right where he wanted him.

Trump leaned in closer and licked all the way up Chocula's cheek, snickering with perverse joy all the while, "Mmm, now that's more like it! I finally managed to wipe that disgustingly smug, conceited look off of your face. What, did you not think I could feign weakness too, hm? Unfortunately for you, I'm quite a bit faster than I let on. Now, how about you give me a nice, yuge scream for me to remember you by, fuckboy? Before I blow you away from this earth, of course…"

Count Chocula threw a punch at Trump but was almost immediately slugged back down to the dirt by the president-elect's beefy digits. The count then thrust the heels of his boots into Trump's stomach, knocking him off kilter and giving himself enough time to put distance between them.

Chocula drew his lips back into a snarl, "Ayo, seems like I underestimated you. You're _flashier_ than I ever thought a nigga besides myself could be! You're just the kinda man I can respect. Hate to do this to a fellow maniac, but I've gotta end this fight here. If I don't kill you now, Brendan Fraser'll kill me for sure, and I absolutely refuse to die a second time! I promised myself that I'd live a full life and never go out so pathetically again. Never again..."

Count Chocula paused to think back to his final days of life. In his youth, he was a ruthless warlord who held dominion over countless planets in the Americaverse. Many American historians say that his power rivaled even that of the undefeated Abe Lincoln during his prime. However, in the days following the Ameripocalypse and the rise of Communism, his empire crumbled and all of his loyal soldiers were massacred. He spent the remainder of his years in exile, living as a starving beggar on a desolate world where no one even knew his name.

"There's one last application of **「Chocolate Jesus」** that even I haven't tried before. Nobody else has ever pushed me that far. As long as a part of my body touches you, I can activate my power. That also includes the blood flowing through my veins!" He explained with a cunning grin. Without a moment's hesitation, the baleful vampire took out his Linoleum knife and sliced off his own middle finger. He whipped his head around and aimed the ensuing geyser of blood spewing from his severed appendage in Donald Trump's direction, soaking the American's right arm and activating his ability.

 _"TRUMP!"_ Sonic cried out from the sidelines in a rare moment of concern. He watched in silent horror as his comrade's entire arm melted away from his body and pooled into a pile of liquid, pulpy refuse at his feet. Most men would have screamed in excruciating pain like a woman in travail from suffering such a horrible wound, but Donald Trump was not most men. Instead, he remained perfectly silent and plotted his next move.

Neither Count Chocula, nor anyone else of the mortal world save for possibly Tupac Shakur, could have ever hoped to predict what he was about to do next. Instead of launching his own counter-attack or taking any kind of offensive action, Trump doused his entire body with a can of gasoline and _lit himself on fire_ with the joint he had stuck between his lips.

Count Chocula fell backwards with a shout, visibly shaken by his opponent's actions, "Ayo, what the _FUCK_ is wrong with you? Are you fuckin' insane, nigga? That shit ain't _flashy!"_

Sonic lowered his head and chuckled at the display, "Well, I'll be damned. I knew it was only a matter of time before that dicksleeve pulled some stupid shit like he always does. Godspeed, you whack-ass motherfucker!"

Donald Trump held his finger to his chin and cracked the smuggest grin he could possibly muster, unperturbed by being set on fire. He then threw back his head and roared with laughter, "Insane? Insanity is just a matter of perspective, choir-boy! On the contrary, what I'm doing is perfectly logical. Your ability only works if you can make physical contact, correct? Well, I'd like to see you try and touch me when my entire body is on fire! Not to mention that any bodily fluids sent my way would simply evaporate from the heat. Checkmate, faglord!"


	13. Count Chocula's Monster Mash (Pt 2)

**SPECIAL THANKS TO OUR PARTNERS AT "GRRRGRAPHICS" FOR DESIGNING THE CURRENT COVER OF THIS FANFICTION. YOUR WORK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED!**

 _After being backed into a corner by Count Chocula's overwhelming strength, Donald Trump has been forced to utilize a daring strategy that may end up destroying him… will his plan succeed, or will he be slain by Brendan Fraser's mightiest warrior?_

* * *

 **Day 1 — 12 Hours Since the Sealing of the Terrordome**

 _"...ALIMONY?!_ Don't you _DARE_ talk about alimony in front of me, you punk bitch!" Brendan Fraser spat, whipping his head around to menacingly gawk at Steve Buscemi with his watery, bloodshot eyes.

Buscemi leaned back in his recliner and took another hit from his bong, more than accustomed to his smoking partner's deranged outbursts. He let out an exasperated groan, "Jeez man, do you ever like, chill the fuck out? It was just a joke. All I want are some homies to smoke wit', but you know what I got? A buncha fuckin' mental cases. Crazy Frog ain't even half as crazy as you, Encino Man _._ On another note, do you have any chicken tendies lyin' around? I'm starting to get the munchies somethin' fierce."

"Chicken… _TENDIES?"_ Brendan Fraser stridently shrieked. He launched into another one of his psychotic rants, "They're called chicken tenders! _T-E-N-D-E-R-S!_ What, you think you're too fucking good to call them tenders? Huh? Are you looking down on me, big guy? Speak _ENGLISH,_ dammit! This pisses me off so damn much, even more than having to pay alimony!"

Brendan Fraser was then reminded of his failed marriage with Angela Anaconda, infuriating him even more. Steve Buscemi continued to nonchalantly smoke his dank kush while Fraser beat his own face against the wall in a berserk fuckrage. Buscemi rested down his hookah and rose from his chair to stare upon his compatriot's expansive collection of _Looney Tunes_ paraphernalia that was mounted over his fireplace.

He held his hand to his chin as he observed the centerpiece of his shrine, a large painting picturing Brendan Fraser and Bugs Bunny in various states of undress. "Man, are you still obsessed with what happened during that whole _Space Jam_ thing from all those centuries ago? Not that I give a rat's ass or anything. Ain't it about time that you move on with your life already?" Buscemi mused.

Brendan Fraser managed a forced laugh, _"OBSESSED?!_ Ha, you can't even comprehend just how obsessed I am! You know the thing that all of us Backstreet Boys have in common? We've all lost people. Bugs Bunny was like a father to me, and it took everything I had to keep on living when the Looney Tunes were slaughtered during that fateful basketball game. I sometimes think that a small part of me died with them. But after all these years of suffering, I finally have the ability to defy this cruel fate!"

Fraser unbuttoned his black trench coat and flashed Steve Buscemi with his extensive collection of wax figurines that were stuffed inside. He removed one of the figures, an eerily lifelike replica of Count Chocula, and cracked a sardonic grin, "With the power of **「** **Beastie Boys** **」** , I can bring them all back to life and make sure that I never lose anyone _EVER_ again! My family will soon be whole, just like it used to be. All that's needed now is one more sacrifice..."

He shoved the figure back into his coat, placing it next to his wax replicas of Michael Jordan, Bill Murray, and the lesser helldaemons known as the Looney Tunes. Bugs Bunny was strangely missing from his otherwise complete collection. Sonic begins inexplicably referring to Trump as "Pmurt."

Buscemi rolled his eyes, "That's pretty fuckin' pathetic, broheim. But whatever, that's not why I'm here n' shit. Garfield-senpai sent me to help you deal with the Americans, but knowing you, I'll go ahead and assume that I'm not wanted or needed. So, what else do you have up your sleeve?"

Without speaking, Fraser removed a small locked box from his fanny pack and presented it to his comrade. "W-Wait, is that who I think it is? You really are fuckin' insane, man! There's no goddamn way you can control the soul of a monster like that!" Buscemi yelped.

He trembled with terror as Brendan Fraser cracked open the seal and revealed the wax replica of his strongest undead soldier of all, the baleful wraith that almost single-handedly destroyed the Americaverse six yahrens ago: _**Adolf Hitler**._

* * *

"All ya'll sinners are going to hell! Brain blast, motherfuckers!" Jimmy Neutron slammed his foot on the gas pedal of his signature pimp Cadillac and proceeded to mow down every Commie soldier in his path, splattering his cross-shaped hood ornament with their blood. He then put his car in reverse and rear-ended Boo Berry and Frankenberry, sending them hurtling across the parched terrain.

Frankenberry swiftly dove out of harm's way as Alex Jones descended from the sky in pursuit. His beefy fists shattered the weathered tarmac beneath his feet as he landed, leaving behind a sizeable crater in its place. Frankenberry took Alex Jones by surprise with an attack from behind, knocking him in the back of the head with a kick and burying his face in the sand.

Alex rose from the ground and wiped the blood from his chin, unfazed. He stood completely still as Frankenberry unleashed a fuckferocious maelstrom of punches and groin thrusts upon him, rendering his stocky body beaten and bloody.

The undead brute took a step back out of genuine shock while panting heavily from overexertion. Even after being beaten to a pulp, Alex Jones still hadn't even flinched or budged from his original location in the slightest.

"Hey, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you really just gonna stand there and take my attacks head-on? What, is this some kind of a game to you? Answer me, dammit!" Frankenberry demanded, his voice full of rage.

Alex Jones took a swig of his filtered water and laughed, "Don't you know anything, little cuz? A real man doesn't flinch from pain. He takes it head on and _EMBRACES_ it! The callouses and scars you build up are what make you strong. Only true patriots know what pain feels like, and what a cruel, kinky, ball-busting mistress she is. If you've never felt pain, you can't even call yourself an _AMERICAN!_ "

Jones righteously guffawed as he tore his stylish jerkin asunder, revealing the vast amount of scars and unhealed wounds littered across his pulsating muscles. Surely, these were the result of several eons of fighting the Communists on the bloody, unforgiving field of battle.

Frankenberry shook with rage after hearing his charged words. "You… you goddamned capitalist baka! I didn't come back from the grave just to get shit-talked by some upstart bastard who knows nothing of all the pain that we and Chocula-sama went through. If you intend to waste your life like I once did by being a reckless fool, then so be it. Get fucked!" He snarled with contempt.

Without a moment's hesitation, Frankenberry withdrew his shotgun and began firing in Alex Jones's direction. The American warrior calmly moved forwards with little resistance. He fearlessly took each of his bullets head-on until he stood directly before his opponent. Alex Jones then swiped the gun out of his hands and bent the barrel backwards, rendering it useless. Many hard questions are raised when Sonic the Hedgehog starts insisting that Yakub created all white people.

 _"N-Nani?!"_ Frankenberry fell upon his back and frantically scurried away from his star-spangled adversary, blustering and spitting inarticulately in a mixture of fury and horror. Despite the 1,488 bullets riddling his body and drenching his torso with blood, Alex Jones still managed to smile and laugh off his grievous injuries as if nothing happened.

Before Frankenberry could launch his counter-attack, Alex Jones produced his signature concoction from his fanny pack and downed its contents in one gulp. The American warrior went on the offensive once more, but was unable to hit his target as he continually fled from his attacks in a panicked frenzy like the cowardly fuckmeister he truly was.

"Wasting my life? On the contrary, I'd say that it's you who's wasting yours, little cuz. If you can't live courageously and face adversity and pain without fear, is that even really living? If you spend all your years grovelling and avoiding conflict like a weak goblin bitch, then you're no better than the _GLOBALISTS!"_ Alex Jones boomed.

In all of his saintly compassion and understanding as an American warlord, the info warrior decided to gift his opponent one final chance to save his pitiable existence. He entered into his fighting stance and challenged him, "I'll give you one more shot, little cuz. If you can take my next attack head-on and not run away, then I'll let you go free. Prove to me that you're a real _AMERICAN_ and not just another goddamned pinko coward!"

Mortified at the thought of coming face to face with his own mortality once more, Frankenberry began to panic. His knees felt weak and a rush of cold sweat and other unspeakable bodily fluids began to trickle down his face. "I… I can't die here! Not again, not in this shitty place! This goddamn American… he's going to slaughter me! Hell, I'm sure of it! I have to escape, it's the only way to save myself!" The ignoble hellbeast whimpered beneath his breath.

Frankenberry threw himself to the ground before the American's fuckferocious strike could connect. He scampered away from the range of Alex Jones's punch, saving himself from his perceived peril. In truth, his opponent never intended to let his attack land in the first place. Steve Buscemi begins "hot gluing" all of his expensive anime collectibles.

The honest water filter salesman pinched his brow and shook his head in disappointment. He let out a long, pained sigh, "You done fucked up now, little cuz. I had hoped that, even in this goblin's nest, that I'd be able to find at least one man with a shred of honor and decency. But deep down, I knew you would do that. After going around this _'cycle of time'_ as many times as I have, I can't say that much of anything surprises me anymore. This is the end for you, Globalist scum — _Super Male Vitality!"_

With his strength now greatly enhanced by the arcane dweomercraft of his herbal concoctions, Alex Jones launched his strongest attack yet and mercilessly slugged Frankenberry into the sun, killing him instantly. Elsewhere, a few miles away from Alex Jones's location, Donald Trump continued his heated fight to the death with Count Chocula. Garfield likes his coffee like he likes his women: with penises.

The distinct aroma of roasted flesh and burnt velour wafted through the air as Donald Trump proceeded to smack down Count Chocula without mercy. The president-elect charged forwards at an incalculably fast speed, socking the undead warlord in his stomach and causing him to spew a freshet of chocolate blood from his mouth.

With his opponent still being shielded by an inferno of blue flames, Chocula was unable to defend himself in any way as Trump continued to pulverize him into the earth with his sole remaining arm. He then lifted Chocula up by his legs and hurled him through the ruins of one of the abandoned towns scattered across the razed planet.

The daemonic count clawed his way out of the pile of rubble he had been buried under. He then swore flagrantly under his breath as he was greeted by Donald Trump, who sat comfortably atop a heap of velociraptor skulls and had been waiting for him to come to his senses.

Trump held his hand to his chin and began pacing around the gravely wounded socialist. "I'm curious about something, Chocula-san. Do you believe in the afterlife? I consider myself as something of a religious man. I believe that, when I die, I'll be sent to a place called the _Dark Carnival_ to be judged for my sins. Before I send you back to the next world, can you tell me what happens after death?" He asked. Strangely, despite everything he had done, he showed no hint of animosity for his opponent in his voice.

Chocula rested his head on the dirt and chuckled, reciprocating his amiable tone, "Ayo, you're a real fuckin' crazy person, you know that? A minute ago you were tryna' kill me, and now we're talking about spirituality and shit. Well, I'd love to tell you, but I'd hate to ruin the surprise. There's some things in life that you just have to find out for yourself. Ya feelin' me?"

Donald Trump crinkled his brow. He chortled, "So, you're saying that you're not down with the clown? Sad!"

The two exhausted, beaten warriors then threw back their heads and guffawed with hearty laughter. Almost immediately afterwards, they both rose to their feet and reassumed their fighting stances. "Neither of us have much time left, brodie. I've been beaten half to death, and you're only a few minutes away from being consumed by your own flames. This next attack is gonna decide everything. Only the _flashiest_ among us will survive!" Chocula spoke with a smile.

Trump nodded, "I wouldn't have it any other way. Let's finish this, fuckboy!"

In a single instant, infinitely faster than the blink of an eye, the outcome of the match was decided. With a single attack, one of these two honorable warlords fell in battle and the other survived to fight another day. Before he had any chance to react, Count Chocula withdrew his machete and used it to impale Donald Trump through the throat.

"...You had me in checkmate this entire time, didn't you? Heh, I figured as much. You really are something, you know that? You've bested me, utterly and completely," Count Chocula lowered his gaze and gave a quick, mirthless laugh. He watched as the flaming corpse at his feet shattered into thousands of tiny, nearly microscopic brick walls, revealing itself to be nothing but a static imitation of the real Donald Trump.

The genuine article appeared from behind and pressed one of his flaming swords against the back of Chocula's neck. Trump cracked a sly grin, "My apologies for the deceit, Mr. Vampire. As I'm sure you've figured out by now, my 'spirit walls' have many unique uses. The man you just killed was a lifelike replica I made of myself. I can create these walls of mine in any size, color, or consistency that normal walls simply wouldn't have. If made small and flexible enough, I can even use them to create a near perfect facsimile of organic matter!"

Donald demonstrated his new technique by creating himself an artificial arm made to replace the one that Chocula had previously liquefied. The count fell to his knees and smiled peacefully, having come to terms with his defeat, "Ayo, now that I think about it, dying again ain't so bad. All I ever wanted in the first place was for my death to have some meaning, to have an impact on someone. I'll take being killed in battle against an honorable foe over starving to death in bumfuck nowhere any day. What kind of goddamn idiot would want to live forever, anyway? If it's you that does me in, I can die just like I lived: _flashy as fuck!"_

 _"COUNT CHOCULA!"_ Boo Berry cried out from the sidelines as Donald Trump struck his opponent down with a single stroke of his blade.

"Arrivederci, buon amico…" Sonic the Hedgehog overheard Trump speaking what he assumed to be Japanese as he tearfully saluted the honorable warrior sprawled out before him. As was tradition, Donald Trump set Chocula's body ablaze like a mighty squib, sending out a smoke signal to attract a murder of bald eagles to feast upon his corpse to complete the heavenly rite of ascension. Such is a holy act ordained as by George Washington, the god of the Americaverse and its pious inhabitants.

"You… you miserable capitalist bastards! I'm going to make all of you suffer for what you did to us. Do you hear me up there, Lord Chocula? I will avenge your death!" Boo Berry snarled with indignation.

"W-Wait, what in the-? I don't like the look of this shit, brotha! May the lord give us strength..." Jimmy Neutron trembled as the lone survivor of their patriotic onslaught revealed the full extent of his strength, sending stray sparks of electricity and bits of debris flying in every direction.

His ethereal body swelled to a gargantuan size as he ingurgitated the spirits of Count Chocula and Frankenberry, adding their powers to his own. Sonic turned face to rally his allies to battle, but was rendered speechless when he found that both Donald Trump and Alex Jones had collapsed from the severity of their injuries. He drew his lips back and growled, "Dammit, those two dicksleeves are never around when you need 'em. Hell with it, I ain't waiting for them to wake up. I've been itching to chop a Commie in half with my cock all day!"

The Communist-Hunter leapt into the air and began firing his artificial gun chode at the ethereal lifeform, but was swiftly smacked back down to the dirt before he could deal any real damage. Boo Berry snickered in response, "Don't you realize how hopeless your situation is? I now possess the strength of three of the mightiest warlords to ever grace the Americaverse! And don't you think for a second that you're going to be let off easily. I'm not going to let either of you die until I've tortured you to the brink of insanity!"

"...Jeez, what the fuck is with all this racket? Can't a nigga get any sleep around here?" An unfamiliar voice called out from the distance. Standing directly behind Boo Berry was none other than _Ice Cube,_ the legendary American master of the "Narcolepsy Sword Style" and another one of the prisoners of the Terrordome. Ice Cube was a veteran of the Communist Wars of old, and it is fabled that he was prone to sleep for hundreds of years at a time and had even slept through Hitler's defeat and the events of Americageddon.

Ice Cube tossed his sleeping bag to the wayside and yawned as he unsheathed his glistening Claymore. "Just who the hell do you think you are, interrupting my glorious vengeance? Disappear, you hollyhock motherfucker!" Boo Berry screeched with an impotent demonic wail.

Without warning, Boo Berry's body spontaneously combusted and blew apart into hundreds of blood soaked chunks. Ice Cube rubbed the back of his neck and slid his blade back into its sheath, having finished what he came to do. He then retreated back into his napsack and went to sleep.

Sonic rubbed his eyes in disbelief at what he had just witnessed. With a single, effortless slice of his blade, the enigmatic patriot had taken down down an enemy that Sonic would have had no hope of defeating without sustaining considerable injury to himself. He grinned, clearly impressed, "Goddamn. I haven't met a super-powered monster quite like this since Abe Lincoln got killed all those years back. That guy's fuckin' strong!"


	14. Extra: Donald Trump Fact File

**FROM THIS CHAPTER ONWARD, ALL OF MY FANFICTION MUST BE READ FROM RIGHT TO LEFT JUST LIKE IN JAPANESE MANGA. IF YOU DO NOT READ IT THIS WAY, IT WON'T MAKE ANY SENSE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING!**

Donald J. Trump _(Donarudo Toranpu)_ is an American veteran of the first Communist war and a trusted confidant of Sonic the Hedgehog. Though once thought to have died in battle, he returned after the events of Americageddon to join Sonic in his holy crusade against the forces of Marxism and to help him defeat the Backstreet Boys. Trump is always dressed in an impeccable manner, and is almost never seen without one of his signature suits and designer scarves. Donald Trump is also a self-proclaimed "volcel."

Trump is characterized by his sadistic personality and arsonistic tendencies, but also has a more sympathetic side that he rarely reveals to others. While many would categorize him as a psychopath, he has a unique code of honor that he holds himself to. Donald Trump possesses a great deal of respect for those who he deems to be particularly unique and interesting, such as Sonic the Hedgehog.

He was even once moved to tears when he was forced to kill Count Chocula, a worthy foe who managed to earn his respect in battle. Trump cares little about the conflicts between the Americans and Communists, and has no issue affiliating himself with either party as long as they keep him interested. However, Trump has little patience for the ordinary and is more than willing to incinerate those that bore him.

Donald Trump was born 1,488 years prior to Adolf Hitler's rise to power, making him the second eldest member of Sonic's patriotic brotherhood, with Sonic himself being the youngest. Much about his early life before the wars is unknown. However, it is known that Trump once had a wife named _Tomoko Kuroki._ She is now presumed to be deceased. Later in life, Donald Trump joined the American military and served under Tupac Shakur during the major battles of the Communist wars.

Like many other Americans, Trump willingly submitted himself to the experimentation of the shadowy organization known as the _Harlem Globetrotters._ He gained his pyrokinetic abilities from the procedure, but in exchange lost what little sanity he had left. His inhuman ruthlessness on the battlefield soon earned him the ire of almost every one of his comrades. Abraham Lincoln in particular clashed with Trump on multiple occasions over his excessive cruelty on the battlefield.

Trump's brutality came to a head when he slew his commanding officer, Cory Baxter, during one of the last conflicts of the war. In truth, Cory was actually a Communist spy and had been planning to assassinate 2Pac in his sleep. Whether Trump knew this fact when he killed him or just did it for fun and sexual pleasure, none can say. Trump was later sentenced to life in prison on the penal colony of New Jersey Beta, a remote world located on the fringe of American space.

Hundreds of years later, Donald Trump was broken out of prison by Taylor Swift and Kevin James, two of Karl Marx's elite commandos. In exchange for his freedom, Trump assisted the duo in their pursuit of the _Biker Brethren._ Unbeknownst to either of them, Trump also worked as a hired gun for the Harlem Globetrotters at the exact same time. Trump felt no real sense of loyalty to either party, and instead simply used their offers as an excuse to further his dream of burning the Americaverse to the ground. This was all a part of Trump's overly elaborate four-dimensional chess game to fuck with as many people as possible for his own twisted amusement.

Donald Trump first encountered Sonic the Hedgehog on the planet Kentucky Prime, hoping to distract him while the Biker Brethren's current base of operations was under siege by Taylor Swift. After a brief skirmish which resulted in the death of Sonic's father, Tails the Fox, Sonic and his company managed to flee while Dwayne Johnson held Trump off. The Rock was ultimately defeated, but not before Sonic could safely arrive to the aid of his fellow patriots and fight Karl Marx's daughter.

After his employer was slain in battle by Sonic and his allies, Trump took Swift's place in Karl Marx's ruling council. He was soon appointed to defend the Communist homeworld, Wolfschanze, from the approaching army of Americans led by Abe Lincoln. During this period, he continued to work as a double agent for the interests of the Harlem Globetrotters alongside Charles Darkley and Dr. Mengele. Wary of his true intentions, the enigmatic leader of the Globetrotters, Meadowlark "Benefactor" Lemon, took care to hide the truth of their current mission from him.

Donald Trump encountered the Biker Brethren once more during their attack on the Wolf's Lair. He managed to overwhelm Garfield with his titanic strength, but suffered a mortal wound in his second confrontation with Dwayne Johnson. After Adam Sandler reappeared and annihilated Wolfschanze in the hellish bloodbath that would later be dubbed as "Americageddon", Trump's lifeless body mysteriously vanished without a trace. Days later, he found himself standing in the ruins of the Communist homeworld completely healed by an unknown force.

After the massacre of the Americans and their allied forces, Sonic the Hedgehog swore vengeance upon the entire Communist race and began his crusade against them. But before he could set off, Donald Trump resurfaced from hiding and offered to accompany Sonic on his dangerous mission, being greatly drawn to the prospect of committing mass genocide with him. Without anyone else to turn to, Sonic was begrudgingly forced to accept the help of one of his most hated enemies. Thus the legend of the "Communist-Hunter" was born, and the Backstreet Boys were created to destroy him and those that followed in his footsteps.

Six years went by, and Trump eventually came to respect Sonic as his equal. He has since devoted himself to Sonic's cause and is immensely interested to see just how the fuckferocious hedgehog will change the world, whether it be for better or worse.

Following his defeat at the hands of the Backstreet Boys, Trump submitted himself to an intense training regimen to harness his latent "patriotic drive" abilities that Alex Jones had helped him unlock. After two weeks of meditation and training in solitude, Donald Trump finally developed an extremely versatile power which he claims will "shake the very foundation of the Americaverse to its core." Whether this will help turn the tide in Sonic's war against Cultural Marxism remains to be seen.

* * *

 **You Have to Go Back:**

 **「ANOTHER BRICK IN THE WALL」**

* * *

 **(PATRIOTISM: 4) (SPEED: 9)**

 **(DEFENSE: 5) (DICKERY: 8)**

 **(DEADLINESS: 3) (STREET CRED: 2)**

 **(ABILITY TYPE: SUMMONER)**

* * *

Gives Trump the ability to summon "spirit bricks" at will. Using the powers of his mind, he can form these bricks into floating walls of any size, color, or consistency. He can even use his brick walls to mimic organic tissue. Additionally, he can utilize his own pyrokinesis to set them on fire, greatly enhancing their destructive capability. The range of his spirit bricks is limited by his line of sight, meaning that he loses all control over them if they move out of his field of vision.


	15. Cut My Life into Pieces

**ATTENTION GLOBEHEADS: PLEASE STOP READING MY FANFICTION IMMEDIATELY. THIS STORY IS ONLY FOR TRUE FLAT EARTH BELIEVERS! THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION.**

 _Following their harrowing encounter with Count Chocula, Sonic and his brotherhood of steel press on to find and defeat the mastermind behind the Terrordome… but will they be able to contend with Brendan Fraser's ultimate trump card?_

* * *

Before Communism, before the rise of Karl Marx and the dark days of Americageddon, there was the _Space Jam War_ — a devastating massacre on such a scale that all records of its existence have been expunged from American history. Tens of thousands of Americans were slaughtered during that fateful basketball game, making it the bloodiest day in all of NBA history. Traditionally, only a few dozen are slain during this honorable sport.

It all began when the baleful archmage known as Lord Swackhammer sealed the spirits of five righteous ballers inside of a basketball in a bid to gain immortality. Now commanding the godlike strength of Charles Barkley and his fellow sportsmen, Swackhammer's legion of Monstars began their bloody campaign to seize control over all of the eastern galaxy. And if it weren't for the intervention of one brave American baller and his army of Looney Tunes, they surely would have succeeded.

Ultimately, only five lived through the final siege of Moron Mountain: _Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, Daffy Duck, Brendan Fraser,_ and _Stan Podalak._ The rest were all slaughtered by the infinite malice of the Monstars and their despicable master. Almost all of these survivors met an untimely end in the cosmological decades to come, leading many to believe that Space Jam and everything to do with it had been cursed by George Washington.

Today, Brendan Fraser is the sole survivor left to carry on their noble legacy. Many say that Fraser was never quite the same after the death of Bugs Bunny and the Looney Tunes. He became increasingly withdrawn in the following years, unwilling to accept the tragedy that befell his family.

Sinking deeply into depression, Fraser cursed the world for taking his loved ones away from him and became utterly obsessed with the idea of bringing them back to life. His madness soon reached the point where even Michael Jordan, one of his closest living friends, became unable to reach him any longer.

However, everything changed for Brendan when he crossed paths with the enigmatic warrior known as Larry the Cable Guy. When he was taught in the arcane art of the "Patriotic Drive" and gained the ability to defy the cruelty of fate...

 **Day 1 — 20 Hours Since the Sealing of the Terrordome**

"There's just one thing about you cats that I still can't figure out. Just what in the hell is the deal with that Sonic guy? The way he slashes through all those Commies… that nigga is like a human tornado! But at the same time, he still somehow manages to stay sane. I've never met someone quite like him in all my years of missionary work. What is he fighting for? What kind of horrible thing did he live through to make him despise Marxists so damn much?" Father Jimmy Neutron asked Donald Trump.

The priest tipped his shades and watched from the sidelines as Sonic decimated another ambush of Communist antifa mercenaries, rocking the fuck out to _Japanoise_ music all the while. Trump shrugged, "Who can say? I've asked him the same question many times, but have yet to get an answer. Usually he just threatens to chop me in half with his dick whenever I bring up his past. All I know is, whatever happened during Americageddon made him the man he is today. It gave him his purpose in life."

Trump then lowered his gaze and chuckled, "Not that I really care to learn the truth anyway. What's the fun in knowing everything? All I care about in life is keeping myself entertained. Whether Sonic saves America or destroys it, I want to be there by his side every step of the way. Nothing in this world would be more entertaining to me!" Garfield's diet consists entirely of alcohol, Pocky, and Kit Kats in Japan-exclusive flavors.

The anime-haired priest raised an eyebrow, somewhat shocked by his pyromaniac friend's strong sense of loyalty. Clearly, there was still much he did not understand about Sonic the Hedgehog and his unique posse of fuckferocious American warlords. Jimmy Neutron simply shook his head and laughed in response, "Damn, Trump. You sure are one crazy ass honkey. Y'know, maybe I misjudged you. Maybe you're not the rat soup-eatin' motherfucker I thought you were. Can you dig it?"

"You're not so bad yourself, priest-kun. That being said, the thought of burning you alive for fun and sexual pleasure still seems appealing to me," Trump jeered. After dealing with all of the socialist troops blocking their path, Sonic and his party finally arrived at Brendan Fraser's manor. This once beautiful estate now stood in a state of disrepair, reflecting Fraser's own fractured, deteriorating psyche.

As any red blooded American would do in this situation, the hedgehog kicked down the door and sped into the foyer of the mansion on his Harley Davidson™ motorcycle, shredding the fuck out of the place. Donald Trump followed carrying Ice Cube's sleeping bag on his back with Ice Cube himself still sleeping soundly inside of it. Despite Sonic's best efforts, he was unable to rouse the mysterious American when he passed out following his fight with Boo Berry.

Alex Jones held his finger to his chin and observed Brendan's vast gallery of Looney Tunes-themed artwork one room over. Curiously, this was the only part of the mansion that wasn't covered in cobwebs and still seemed to be regularly cleaned.

"...Huh. Fine art really makes you think, don't you agree?" Alex Jones asked Sonic, commenting on a marble statue of Bugs Bunny with disproportionately massive genitals. He then nodded his head in approval as he gazed upon an exquisite impressionist portrait of Daffy Duck, the Egyptian God of Frustration.

The hedgehog crinkled his nose to convey his disgust. "I don't understand modern art, man. All this shit looks pretty gay to me. I like my art with naked bitches that have big hooters!" Sonic grumbled under his breath while continuing to hack the entrance hall apart with his chainsaw. Sonic the Hedgehog is a man of unparalleled taste.

"Well, they may not be big-tittied hoes, but these crackers seem familiar. Where have I seen this guy?" The hedgehog thought to himself as he stared upon a framed painting of Bugs Bunny, reminding him of a similar picture he had once seen in Michael Jordan's home. Afterwards, Sonic and his party ascended the spiral staircase leading up to the second floor of Brendan Fraser's mansion. The dark, winding halls appeared more and more disarranged the closer they approached to his study, with puddles of blood splattered on the floor and bits of garbage and refuse in every corner.

 _"The Lord is with me, so I will have no fear. The Lord is with me, so I will have no fear…"_ Jimmy Neutron kept repeating the same mantra under his breath. He shook like a pot leaf out of terror but tried his hardest to stay strong in the face of the enemy ahead. After that fateful day where he lost Hugh Neutron, the man who helped him see the light and become a devout Christian, Jimmy had vowed that he would never let his fear control him again.

"Sonic, my old friend! I knew that we would one day meet again. What, did you really think the forces of Communism could do me in so easily?" A familiar voice called from further down the corridor.

Sonic's eyes widened in disbelief as he recognized the mahogany-skinned man standing before him. He gasped, "N-No fucking way! I was starting to think I had just imagined you before, but you really were there — _Michael Jordan!"_

Air Jordan spun a basketball on his index finger and roared with laughter. "Of course! I wouldn't leave you to fight the Communist menace on your own forever. Forgive me for keeping this a secret for so long, O' patriotic hedgehog. I'm sorry to hear that Lincoln died a few years back. I wish I could've been there to save my father, but that would have compromised the mission I was on. I'll explain everything in due time, just come with me!" He urged, reaching out his hand.

While tempted at first, Sonic stood his ground and kept his steely gaze fixated squarely on Jordan. "Alright, yeah. I'll buy it. I don't care about any of that other shit, I'm just glad to see a familiar face after so long. There's just one thing I'm curious about, though: how could you have stayed in hiding when your kid was killed? When _Magic Johnson_ died fighting the Communists?" The hedgehog asked, substituting the name of his real son, Charles Barkley, with a fake.

The baller paused for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "...M-My son? Ah, that. Magic Johnson's death still haunts me to this day. If it weren't for my love of this beautiful country, I doubt I could have carried on. But that's all in the past now. Please, just take my hand and let me show you what I've been working towards! It will all make sense once you see what's behind this door!" Jordan asked again, this time with a slightly more forceful tone.

Suddenly, without a moment's hesitation, Sonic the Hedgehog removed his electric guitar from its case and used it to hew Michael Jordan in two. His corpse then dispersed into the ether, leaving no trace of its existence behind.

"...A fake, huh? Clever thinking, little cuz. I guess these _GLOBALISTS_ couldn't truly resurrect the dead after all, only make lifelike copies of them. Are you alright?" Alex Jones asked. He rested a caring hand on Sonic's shoulder while he stared silently at the place where Jordan stood. Trump begins to suspect that Alex Jones might actually be Bill Hicks in disguise.

Sonic forcefully smiled, but his pained voice gave away his true feelings of grief. He sighed, "Yeah, it's no big deal. I didn't buy that shitty fake for even a second. It's just… for a minute there, I wanted to believe. I wanted my instincts to be wrong for once. Even when I knew he was leading me into a trap that probably would've killed us all, I wanted to follow him. Sometimes, I can almost see why Garfield gave up his faith in America..."

Taking care to avoid the passage the imposter had tried to lure him into, the fearless hedgehog continued on the treacherous road ahead. Sonic cautiously creaked open the door at the end of the hall and trod lightly into Brendan Fraser's inner sanctum. He kept his finger on the trigger of his machine gun for protection, preparing for a fight. The pious group of space bikers all reeled back in shock as a strident wail echoed from across the room. "You goddamn _BITCH!"_

Brendan Fraser scuttled across the ground on all fours and began screeching autistically. He directed his bony fingers to the shag carpet and howled in anguish, "You fucking _FUCK!_ You're tracking mud and bullshit all through my fucking house! Do you have any idea how expensive these goddamn carpets are, huh? Do you even have a motherfucking clue? Grgh… bugh... _NRGH!_ This pisses me off so much that I can't even think straight! Now I have to get this cleaned before the stains set. Just what the hell is wrong with you people?!"

"S-Sorry, man," Jimmy Neutron apologized, taken aback by his exaggerated reaction. He promptly removed his blood soaked boots and set down his jug of holy water on the nearest table.

Brendan Fraser stopped his obsessive bleaching of the carpet and shot the priest a furious glare. He snarled, "Were you mongoloids raised in a goddamn barn? Are you even human? Put that drink on a coaster, you giant _CUNT!"_

"Goddamn. Is this nigga for real? I recognize him from our fight before, but is he _really_ one of the Backstreet Boys? He's even more blazed out of his mind than I am," Sonic muttered to himself.

While not physically imposing like Garfield or Larry the Cable Guy, there was still something about Brendan Fraser that made him particularly unnerving to look at. His face was constantly flushed with rage, his bloodshot eyes seemed to protrude unnaturally from his face, and what few strands of hair he had were disheveled and greasy. Additionally, Brendan Fraser had the word "damaged" tattooed in bold on his forehead. As for the purpose of this phrase being there, Sonic could only guess.

"Just who the hell is this bad hombre, anyway?" Donald Trump asked, having already forgotten their previous encounter.

"Who am I, you ask?" After his fuckferocious meltdown, Brendan rose to his feet and assumed a noticeably calmer, more relaxed mien. He respectfully bowed before the burly patriots and smiled, "Excuse me for my outburst before. I'm not accustomed to having guests, you see. To answer your question, my name is Brendan Fraser. I'm the tactical advisor of the Backstreet Boys and one of its four Heavenly Kings. Bugs Bunny is my adoptive father. I'm a Sagittarius, and my blood type is O. I have a fetish for monster girls. Also, _I'm the one who's going to kill all of you."_

"Kill all of us? Heh, I'd like to see you try, Globalist scum. 1776 will commence _AGAIN,_ motherfucker!" Alex Jones roared with indignation. He swung his knuckledusters in his direction, provoking him into revealing his Patriotic Drive ability.

The Communist calmly produced his wax doll of Adolf Hitler and uttered the name of his killer technique, "Danse Macabre: **「** **Beastie Boys** **」**!"

The massive shockwave unleashed from this unholy jutsu blew off the entire facade of the mansion and sent Sonic the Hedgehog and his comrades flying back into the heart of the desert. Sonic cried out in agony as he smashed into the earth at an incalculably fast speed and hurtled for miles across the sand. His ribs shattered on impact with the ground and dug into his lungs, leaving him almost completely immobile.

Brendan Fraser leapt in pursuit and came crashing to the ground with a loud thud. He walked towards Sonic and began to speak, "Have you figured out how my **「** **Beastie Boys** **」** ability works yet? If you've ever met someone, even in passing, I can rip those memories from your mind and use them to make a copy of that person. The more accurate your memories are, the better and closer to the original that copy is. After that I can control the copies and make them do whatever I please. I can also give them free will if I choose. There's just one limitation to this power: the person whose memories I steal always dies. Because of that, I can't make the perfect clones from my own experiences. That's tragic, don't you think?"

"...I asked you a question. Don't you think that's goddamn _TRAGIC?"_ Brendan screeched at the wounded hedgehog. "All I want in life is peace of mind, dammit! Can't I just have that?! All I ever wanted was to live out my days in peace with my loved ones! But fate had other plans for them. To bring back the people I care the most about, I've slaughtered hundreds on the off chance that they _might_ have met one of the Looney Tunes. My family is now almost complete after so many years, but there's just one glaring omission. Until today, I've never found someone with memories of _Bugs Bunny._ He was a very private person, you see. But you've heard plenty about him from Michael Jordan, haven't you?"

Sonic couldn't deny what he had said. During his days in the Biker Brethren, Jordan had often regaled him with the great tales and songs of the Space Jam War and the heroic men who fought in it, including Bugs Bunny. Fraser took the hedgehog's silence as confirmation, "I suspected as much. Jordan-senpai never could keep any secrets. That's why I used his image to trick you all into coming here. You should know that this isn't anything personal, but I _will_ steal the memories from your cold, dead body and bring Bugs Bunny back to life. Whether you like it or not, this wasteland is going to be your tomb!"

Sonic growled, "You're even more of a sick fuck than I thought! So, this whole 'Terrordome' thing is just a convenient way for you to slaughter innocent Americans by the hundreds for your own selfish desires, right? Is this the justice of the Backstreet Boys? Well, there's just one issue with your plan, because I sure as hell ain't gonna die in a shit hole like this. I'm going to make America great again!"

Brendan Fraser snickered in response, "I thought you'd say something dumb as hell like that. I just can't see how a wise man like Garfield could have ever called himself your comrade. But you should know that your love for this cruel, unforgiving Americaverse is nothing compared to the love I have for Bugs Bunny! I will complete my family at any cost, no matter how much blood needs to be spilled. Even now, I still have an ace up my sleeve that even the Cable Guy wouldn't be able to beat. Its name is… _Adolf Hitler!"_

Sonic and his brotherhood of steel all froze in place with fear as Fraser uttered the forbidden words and summoned this extragalactic horror to his aid. Adolf Hitler was a creature so vile, so unutterably horrific that mortal words alone were entirely unable to describe his vast menace in full detail. Jimmy Neutron swore that he could feel his sanity start to slip away just from being within a few hundred feet of this noisome daemon sultan, a testament to his sheer, immense evil.

In the first age of the Americaverse, Adolf Hitler slew all of the founding fathers and even managed to fatally wound Tupac Shakur, one of the strongest Americans to have ever lived. Centuries later, he destroyed a myriad of star systems and was responsible for many of the deaths during the bloodbath known as Americageddon. Even Sonic the Hedgehog knew just how hopeless it would be trying to stand up to this ancient elder god. But yet, his love for his son and his desire to save his country forced him to try and attempt the impossible.

"Dammit... I had hoped I'd never have to look at that hideous face again. But at least it's not my face this time," Sonic growled. Before he could charge into battle, the hedgehog was assaulted with several unpleasant flashbacks to the events of Americageddon and all of the bloodshed Hitler had caused. He clutched his forehead as the memories of that horrific conflict flooded back into his mind for the first time since that day, memories he had tried his very hardest to repress.

* * *

 _With one final, galaxy shattering blast, Adam Sandler's turkey neck was severed in two and his head was blown from his body. Adolf Hitler crushed his already ravaged foe's skull under his boot, putting an end to his pitiable existence. Hitler then split open Paul Blart's face without mercy, skewering him upon the frostbitten earth and shocking all with his savagery._

 _Garfield watched in horror from the sidelines in an ocean of blood and intestines. He screamed at the top of his lungs, "Sonic, STOP!"_

* * *

With an unspoken agreement, Sonic and his fellow Americans all decided to face certain death by confronting this dark Führer. No words were needed, for they would have been gay and an affront to the heavenly spirit of George Washington.

"Hell yeah, motherfuckers! _God bless AMERICA!"_ In that moment, Sonic's star-spangled fuckfury exploded in a frenzied rage of righteous freedom. Forcing his broken, mangled body on by pure patriotism alone, Sonic lunged at Hitler with his electric guitar poised to dig into his rotten flesh.

The hedgehog successfully managed to put Hitler on the defensive with his savage combination of guitar slashes and cannon shots from his groin. Thanks to the heavenly power imbued within the Communist Slayer, he even managed to slice this immortal hell-lord across the chest and draw his blood. However, Adolf quickly gained the upper hand by smashing Sonic's face into the sand with his massive, armament haki-clad fists.

"Get out of there, little cuz! You were already too injured to fight before you threw the first punch. Let us handle it, he's going to kill you!" Alex Jones shouted from a few feet away, only now starting to realize just how monstrous Hitler's strength truly was. Sonic's own inhuman power was but a drop in the ocean by comparison.

"Why do you still cling to life? Even for an insect, there is still dignity in accepting your fate. Why won't you just perish like the worthless creature you are?" Adolf Hitler asked, genuinely curious. He then proceeded to pound his flaming fists into the hedgehog's chest several more times, caving in his sternum.

"B-Because…" Sonic rasped in a hoarse voice, his chin drenched with blood. Several of the blood vessels in his eyes had burst, turning his sclera a deep shade of red that made him look almost demonic in appearance. He shakily rolled over and, by some miracle, forced himself to rise to his feet. He then proceeded to throw another furious barrage of punches at the undead Nazi. But before he could do any real damage, he was smacked down back to the ground with a force that could have destroyed several lesser galaxies.

Sonic spat out a few of his teeth and continued his sentence, "Because... if I can't beat you, how the hell am I supposed to save the United States? By fighting the Commies, I've waged war with the whole universe. Even some of my own people want to kill me. I'll face obstacles much, much greater than this fight on my journey. If I can't chop you in half with my dick, then I don't even deserve to be called a goddamn American! I can't afford to lose to a weak ass Nazi like you!" _  
_

Mustering the very last of his strength, Sonic launched himself at Hitler and pummeled him straight through Brendan Fraser's mansion. All of the bones in his arm shattered on impact with Hitler's face, exacerbating his already critical condition. The fuckraging hedgehog then fired a maelstrom of 1,488 beams at him from his weaponized gun cock that razed Fraser's art gallery and buried the unholy Führer under a pile of rubble.

"Sonic-kun, get down!" Donald Trump shouted. He quickly tackled Sonic to the ground, narrowly saving him from a surprise energy attack fired by Hitler. The father of lies soon emerged totally unscathed from the ruins of the mansion and began slowly approaching Sonic and his comrades.

He shot the hedgehog and his companion a murderous glare and spoke, "Is it courage that causes you to raise your hand against me, or simple foolishness? You are naught but a tiny ant, barely even worth treading upon underfoot. Saving America? Only a fool who knows nothing of the world and the monstrous individuals living in it would believe they could ever accomplish such a thing. You are absolutely nothing to me. So, _die!"_

Time seemed to slow to a standstill as Adolf Hitler began charging one of his signature planet-annihilating blasts. Sonic dragged his ruined body across the sand using only one arm, still determined to fight despite being nearly crippled. Trump pressed the heel of his boot on Sonic's back, weighing him down to prevent him from rushing to his death.

The hedgehog's eyes widened with shock as he stared upwards at Trump. "W-What the hell are you doing? I know that look. You always make that smug, shit-eating grin whenever you're about to do something crazy. Well, stay out of it! This is my fight!" He snarled, unwilling to give in.

"Sonic-kun... I want you to promise me something, alright?" Trump turned his head back to him and smiled without the slightest hint of blood lust reflected on his face, a rare sight. "I want you to promise me that you won't ever become uninteresting. In all my years of living, I've never met someone quite as hard to figure out as you are. When we first met, I'll admit that I wanted to burn you alive the second you stopped providing me with cheap entertainment. But the more I got to know you, the more fascinating you and your lifestyle became. I eventually became so invested in figuring you out that I made it my mission in life to help you succeed in your goal. My simple curiosity in a fellow madman unexpectedly transformed into diehard loyalty for a close friend. That's pretty pathetic for a heartless serial arsonist, wouldn't you agree?"

"Trump... what the hell are you talkin' about? Are you high from snorting twenty pounds of cocaine again or some shit? Wait, don't tell me you're thinking about—!" Sonic stood aghast. He was reminded of Michael Jordan's final moments and how the valiant baller once sacrificed himself to help his allies escape from an enemy that far outclassed their own strength. However, before he could protest any further, he finally collapsed from exhaustion and lost consciousness.

Trump then turned to the rest of his allies. "Oi, Alex. You mind taking Sonic-kun and getting away from this place? It's just like he said before. I'm about to do something extremely stupid," He asked him with a sly grin.

Alex Jones nodded, "Alright. I hope you know what you're doing, little cuz. Show this Globalist bastard the true power of America!" After the water filter salesman dragged Sonic's body away from harm, Trump began fearlessly walking towards Adolf Hitler.

"Listen closely, ye' foul Nazi tosspot! That American hedgehog has a far greater destiny than any one of us here could ever imagine. I truly believe he can succeed in his mission, insane as it may be. I'll gladly give up my own life if it means helping him see it through. Mark my words: Sonic the Hedgehog is the man who's going to _MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!"_ Donald Trump raised his fists skyward and sang his praise to the heavens with a righteous shout. He summoned a tidal wave of flaming brick walls from the sky that all came crashing down upon Hitler, cancelling his energy attack and pummeling him into the planet's crust.

"Do you know how I got to be where I am now? It's because I think big and kick ass! Finishing move: _Balls to the Wall!"_ Trump roared with hearty, robust laughter. With both of his fists now clad in massive brick gauntlets, Donald came to blows with Hitler in the skies above. These two puissant warlords appeared as two massive bursts of light smashing against each other as they clashed near the ceiling of the dome, one shrouded in darkness and the other in fire.

Trump performed a somersault and struck Hitler across the face with one his flaming legs. "It's over for you, fuckboy! Volare via!" The flaxen-haired dreamboat cackled in Japanese as he chased in pursuit. Donald Trump conjured his largest wall yet and smashed it into Adolf's face, sending a whirlwind of sand flying in all directions from the sheer magnitude of this attack. _  
_

The churlish Nazi swore under his breath as he clawed his way out of the impact crater he had been buried in. Backed into a corner by his opponent's shocking strength, Adolf Hitler bayed with impotent fuckrage and ejaculated a torrent of deadly light particles in Trump's direction.

"S-Shit!" Donald swore under his breath, unable to dodge in time. Hundreds of these tiny, bullet-like beams darted through his torso, riddling his body with holes and forcing him to plummet back to the earth. Not letting up for even a second, Hitler teleported behind Trump and reared back his arm.

Adolf leaned forward and whispered into Donald Trump's ear before attacking, "For a mere mortal, your strength is commendable. By some miracle, you even actually managed to wound me! Just as I'd expect of a Patriotic Drive user. But I'm afraid that everything ends here for you. Have you ever been bitch-slapped at the speed of light?"

"Sonic... _SONIIII_ _—!"_ Trump's cry was cut permanently short as Hitler made his move. Adolf struck the American's face using only the slightest amount of pressure, but it was enough to send Donald Trump flying straight through the walls of the Terrordome and millions of light years into the vast blackness of space.

In that moment, the massive difference in strength between the two became clear. "L-Little cuz!" Alex Jones reeled back in horror as he stared up at the sky. The massive sun that beamed down over this remote world flared as Trump's unconscious body shot right through it, incinerating him instantly. Adolf Hitler had just claimed his first victim.

"...M-My god," Jimmy Neutron fell to his knees, too shocked to even move. Alex Jones abruptly dropped Sonic and charged as fast as his legs could carry him towards Hitler, tears streaming down his face as he ran.

He let out a loud, unrestrained roar as he hurled himself at the Nazi standing before him, "You're going to pay for killing Trump, you Globalist motherfucker! He may have lost this battle, but we will continue to fight this info war in his memory! I'm going to destroy you with the power of my _Super Male Vitality!"_

Adolf Hitler lightly stepped sideways and avoided the American's desperate charge with ease. He then swung his leg around and kicked Alex Jones across the back, rupturing several of his vital organs and nearly snapping his spine. He then calmly approached the downed warrior, preparing to cleave out his jugular vein using his bloody talons.

"The Lord is with me, so I will have no fear. The Lord is with me, so I will have no fear!" Jimmy Neutron continuously repeated his mantra to himself as he mustered up the courage to protect his fallen friends. While Hitler was distracted, Jimmy lunged and thrust the sword concealed within his pimp cane forward. By some miracle, he actually managed to stab this Nazi lord in the stomach and spill his ichor-like blood upon the sand. _  
_

"F-Fuck!" Jimmy Neutron's face turned a deathly pale as what he had just done began to set in, an act that would surely awaken Hitler's insatiable fuckwrath. The Nazi lord's face contorted with rage, "What right do you think you have to lay your disgusting hands upon me, you American trash? I am a _GOD!"_

Hitler swung his beefy fists downwards to skewer the noble priest cowering at his feet. However, his furious attack was deflected just in time by the stroke of a stranger's sword. Standing before the two was none other than Ice Cube, the mysterious rapper who had saved Sonic and his allies from certain peril once before. On his back he carried Donald J. Trump, who was miraculously still breathing despite the serious burns covering his body.

Sonic struggled to maintain consciousness as he heaved himself to where Ice Cube stood. "You... who the hell are you, anyway? Why did you save us?" He asked in a weak voice.

Ice Cube shrugged, "Who am I? I'm nobody important. Just an old nigga who tries his damndest to help Americans in need whenever he can. If I were you, I'd be more concerned with your friend. He got nearly toasted by the sun before I pulled him to safety! He'll live, but not for long if he doesn't get help soon."

Hitler raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Hm? Now there's a face I haven't seen in a few hundred eons. What are you doing here, Ice Cube? I thought you had perished along with Tupac Shakur and the rest of your despicable demigod bloodline during the Communist Wars," He snarled at the burly figure sauntering towards him.

Ice Cube confidently smirked as he unsheathed his frozen claymore, a mighty blade forged from a solid block of ice, and prepared to fight. The rapper chuckled, "Tupac? Ah, that name takes me back! Of all the brats I trained in my younger days, that damn kid always gave me the most shit. Speakin' of brats, I can't have you takin' the lives of these four young patriots. The time for us old niggas has already ended, but their era is just about to begin. You better chickity-check yo self before you wreck yo self, motherfucker!"


	16. This Is My Last Resort

**FROM NOW ON, ALL OF MY FANFICTION WILL BE FUNDED BY FINANCIAL DOMINATION. OPEN YOUR WALLET FOR ME, PAYPIGS!**

 _Sonic and his right wing death squad have suffered total defeat at the hands of Adolf Hitler, leaving them all in critical condition… will they prevail, or will they finally succumb to the forces of Communism?_

* * *

Throughout history, there has always been one American considered to be stronger than all the rest. The kind of American that appears only once every millennium, something known to many as the legendary "patriot incarnate." After the death of Tupac Shakur, there is only one man that fits this description perfectly and could be called the omniverse's strongest: _**Abraham "Liberty" Lincoln**._

Lincoln was a true, freedom-loving warlord that possessed such godlike power that even the vile spawn of socialism greatly feared and respected his name. In his long life, he challenged every single one of the Communist Underlords at least once, including Karl Marx, and won every time.

Twelve times, he was captured and sentenced to death. Consequently, the planets where he was set to be executed were all destroyed before he could even reach the guillotine. Only once in his entire life had he ever been defeated in single combat. In America, there is a saying: "In a fight between Honest Abe and anyone else, _Lincoln will always win."_

But Abe Lincoln did not gain his overwhelming strength overnight. Rather, it took hundreds of years of training for him to become the indomitable monster known all throughout the patriotverse as the strongest man alive.

Legends say that after Honest Abe built a planet-sized log cabin using his own two hands, he traveled deep into the mountains of an uncharted world to live as an ascetic. He devoted hundreds of years of his life to meditation to unravel the secrets of America and gain enlightenment. He forsook all earthly pleasures, including Nightcore and Pocky, and committed his life to the spirit of George Washington. Such is the holiest of all acts.

Lincoln meditated day and night, through rain and snow, and never broke his concentration even once. His resolve never faded and his American prayer never ceased. And after one thousand four hundred and eighty-eight years, Abraham Lincoln finally achieved the enlightenment he had sought after for so long.

By harnessing the latent patriotism that lies within all living things, Honest Abe gained the ability to manipulate reality itself. He even learned how to sculpt the world around him to create living matter from nothing. Lincoln had just tapped into a godly power that many believed that only Washington himself could wield. He had finally unlocked the true potential of the proud American race, making him the strongest living being in all of the Americaverse.

This arcane art he had discovered would later come to be known as the "Patriotic Drive." However, just as Lincoln now possessed the strength to give life, he could also take it away. He soon came to the horrific realization that this ability could potentially claim the lives of billions of Americans if it ever fell into the wrong hands. Because of this, Abraham Lincoln sealed his knowledge of the Patriotic Drive and vowed that he would never call upon the technique again. He never broke this promise for as long as he lived, even during the war on Communism when America needed his divine power the most.

But despite his best efforts to hide the existence of this technique, many others learned to harness its overwhelming strength in the cosmological decades to come. Larry the Cable Guy learned the secret of the Patriotic Drive from Abe Lincoln himself and later taught it to his Marxist disciples. Others like Count Chocula and Alex Jones unlocked this power during their own quests for enlightenment. Alex Jones refers to this principle as "the big enchilada."

Honest Abe's greatest fears would finally come to pass six years after his death. The fate of the United States of America would be decided in a costly war of the Patriotic Drive users, a war that would finally determine who the superior race is: the _Americans,_ or the _Communists._

The age of Hellbane is about to be unleashed...

 **Day 2 — 26 Hours Since the Sealing of the Terrordome**

"I am glad to see that your skills haven't dulled over the years, Ice Cube. Being able to keep up with me in my transformed state is quite the feat! But even you should realize the futility of this duel. Even in your prime, you never were able to destroy me. You always lacked the ruthless cunning of your apprentice, Tupac Shakur. Regardless, I'm going to thoroughly enjoy killing you…" Adolf Hitler chuckled. He lustfully licked his lips as he charged back into battle, wildly swinging his fists in his opponent's direction.

Ice Cube was undaunted. He stood tall and erect, beaming like a lone star in a raging fuckstorm of Communist wickedness and depravity. He drew his icy blade, a sword as cold and deadly as his spirit, and sliced right through Hitler's scaly exoskeleton with an ittō-ryū slash. The Nazi roared in agony as the rapping daimyō knelt and sheathed his sword, having successfully dealt him a crushing blow.

Glowing, hot red cracks resembling magma spread across Hitler's torso where he had just been stabbed. His entire body began to palpitate wildly, a sign that the clone created by Brendan Fraser was beginning to lose its cohesion. Ice Cube cracked a grin, "Heh, just as I suspected. You've got all the power of the real thing, but none of the defense. You're just a glass cannon that could crumble to pieces at any damn second! I didn't even have to use my AK. I gotta say it was a good day!"

Ice Cube lunged a second time and drove his claymore straight through Adolf Hitler's wounds. His blade widened the cracks in his torso to the point where his body lost stability and blew apart from the pressure. Sonic and his company all reeled back in shock as they were sprayed with the Nazi's ichorous blood and the scattered remnants of his genital bones. Steve Buscemi's new rainbow thigh-high socks are a surprise hit.

"S-Sugoi ne…" Jimmy Neutron muttered in awe, too dumbstruck to even wipe the cartilage from his priestly robes. Clearly, Ice Cube was an American of a completely different caliber than those he had ever witnessed before. He was the kind of doughty patriot described of only in ancient texts, those who had rejected the impurity of three-dimensional women and had devoted their hearts and loins solely to the kinky love of Lady Liberty. Also, monster girls.

Instead of losing his cool like one might expect, Brendan Fraser merely sneered at the American's victory against the Nazi hell lord. The Marxist eunuch snickered, "So, did you think your feeble patriotism would be enough to sabotage my plans? It's true that my **「** **Beastie Boys** **」** duplicates are far weaker than the originals. But could you kill two Adolf Hitlers? How about three? Or a hundred? Would you still be laughing then, you smug little shit? There's just one thing you still don't understand… _NOTHING on this earth can stop me from bringing Bugs Bunny back to life!"_

Fraser cackled with depraved glee as he activated his technique once again and summoned thirteen more Adolf Hitler duplicates to fight for him. Without hesitation, the army of Hitler clones all descended upon Ice Cube at once and began mercilessly pummeling him into submission. The rapper quickly scrambled away from the chaos of the fight and the torrent of energy beams raining down upon him, barely escaping with his life.

"Geez, days like this make me wish I never stopped bein' a goddamn actor. All you undead Nazi motherfuckers can go right back to hell!" Ice Cube snarled as he drew his claymore once again and threw himself at the depraved host before him. However, he was mortified to find that all of his combatants had adapted from their defeat and were now able to dodge his strikes with ease.

One of the Adolf Hitler clones countered by driving his blazing fists into the rapper's stomach, rupturing several of his vital organs and sending him flying backwards. Another one of the Hitlers caught him in midair and drove him back to the earth with a hammerlock suplex. Not sparing Ice Cube even the tiniest shred of mercy, all thirteen Adolf Hitlers immediately leapt in pursuit and proceeded to beat the American while he was down.

Mustering up the very last of his strength, Ice Cube shook off his fucksavage assailants and opened fire with his sawed-off shotgun. While his enemies were distracted, he somersaulted out of the impact crater at his feet and grabbed one of the Adolf Hitler duplicates by his turkey neck. Despite everyone's best efforts, Crazy Frog still won't put his dick away.

Moving with impossible coordination akin to a minstrel show, the rest of Brendan Fraser's fighting force launched a maelstrom of energy blasts in Ice Cube's direction. The rapper cracked a smug grin as he used the incapacitated Nazi as a shield, letting his own comrades blow him to bits with their combined firepower.

Ice Cube gritted his teeth as he felt his own power begin to fade. He bit down on his lip and feverishly swore under his breath, "Dammit, I can't give out now! I guess I'm not the man I used to be in my old-ass age. Those damn young'uns down there are the only hope America has of surviving in these dark times. No longer can our patriotic galaxy rely on old dinosaurs like me or Abe Lincoln to protect it. It's all up to the new generation now. A bold new age is about to dawn, and the future of our country will be theirs for the making! I can't let them die here, I have to win this fight!"

As the battle dragged on, Ice Cube's stamina continued to diminish and Adolf Hitler gained the clear advantage over him. No longer were their deific strengths evenly matched. With each attack launched at him, the pious rapper inched ever closer to death. Unwilling to stand by and watch one of his compatriots be slaughtered for his sake, Sonic the Hedgehog reached into the crotch of his blue jeans and removed the vial of liquid that Alex Jones had given him before they departed on their journey of heterosexual male bonding.

Alex Jones's eyes opened wide in response. "Is that… the _Ultra Male Vitality?_ I admire that manly determination, little cuz! But say, are you sure you want to do this? You're not like the rest of us. You've still got a wife and a kid to return home to. There's only about a fifty-fifty chance of you actually surviving if you take that formula. If we just escaped now while Hitler is preoccupied, nobody here would think any less of you. Are you prepared to take the risk of dying for this?" He asked, concerned for Sonic as a friend.

The Communist-Hunter nodded his head, "I already made that decision a long time ago, filter-man. As an American, there'd be no greater disgrace than to let another person get killed fighting to protect me. I've seen enough of that gay self-sacrifice shit already. I don't even know that jive turkey's name, but I'm sure as hell going to save him! But if I'm going to succeed, I've got to push my body harder than I ever have before. I can't afford to do anything half-assed anymore. It's all or nothing. I came here to kill Commies and eat shit, and I'm all outta shit!"

Standing strong, he popped off the cap of the bottle and downed its contents in one gulp. Sonic then fell to his knees as he felt a sudden, sharp pain start to build in his chest. "Wh-What the hell's goin' on? I feel like I overdosed on Jenkem again…" He groaned. His eyesight began to blur, and the world around him felt as if it were spinning relentlessly with himself at the center of it. The hedgehog collapsed onto the sand without warning, blood streaming from his nose and egestion orifices.

After a long silence, Jimmy Neutron started to panic. "H-Hey, wake up! Was that supposed to happen, brotha? Why isn't he moving?" The reverend asked Alex Jones. He rushed to Sonic's side and tried his hardest to rouse him, but had no success.

Jones rested his hand on Jimmy's shoulder and slowly shook his head. He spoke in a casual, unconcerned voice, "He's already gone, little cuz. Don't waste your energy. I told you that there's only a fifty-fifty chance of surviving, right? Well, he made that gamble and lost. Considering the condition he was in, it's not surprising that he didn't survive the transformation. The strain on his body was just too great. Basically, we're fucked."

"What? How could you be so calm about this? I thought he was your friend, but you don't even sound like you care! _Sonic is fucking dead!"_ Jimmy Neutron cried, appalled by Alex Jones's distant, unfeeling tone.

After a brief silence, Alex Jones continued speaking, "You didn't let me finish, little cuz. There's still _one_ way that he could still survive and wake from his coma. It's a slim chance, though!"

Alex Jones then stood, slapped Jimmy on the back, and roared with thunderous laughter. "You're a priest, right? Well, get out that Bible and start prayin' for a miracle. There's a tiny, infinitely small, near zero chance that he could still snap himself out of his catatonic state and wake up on his own. I've got faith that if anyone can beat those odds, it's Sonic the motherfuckin' Hedgehog. Don't you?" He asked.

The gentlemanly pastor took a moment to process what his brother in Christ had just said. Eventually, Jimmy Neutron came around and eagerly nodded his head, "There's only two things that I ain't ever seen: a ho that won't go and a miracle that our lord and savior can't make happen. I'll have faith, but not in Sonic. I have faith that if anyone can save him now, it's God Almighty! _Can you dig it?"_

* * *

A whirlwind of flashing lights and hazy images flew by Sonic's face as he descended into the depths of unconsciousness. He plunged ever deeper into the void, dreamless. After what seemed like hours, his descent stopped and his body seemed to float in place.

"...Sonic? Hey, this is no time to be dozing off! We have to find the seven Chaos Emeralds before Dr. Eggman can get them!" An unknown voice called out from a mouth unseen. Like a veil was lifted from his eyes, Sonic's sight returned and he found himself in an environment completely alien to him.

He was greeted by a paradise overgrown with lush, green foliage and checkered plains that seemed to stretch on for miles. Sonic could also spot dozens of palm trees swaying in the wind and several strange bits of elevated terrain that almost looked like vertical loops. Unimpressed, Sonic furrowed his brow and grumbled, "What the hell is all this gay shit?"

"G-Gay shit? What's gotten into you? Watch your language, Sonic!" The strange voice scolded. Sonic glanced at the orange fox addressing him, then did a double take from disbelief.

"Wait… dad? Didn't Trump kill you before? How many times do you have to die before you stay that way, old man? Either ho up or blow up, you annoying cunt," The hedgehog growled throatily whilst searching his jeans for another joint to smoke. Except he wasn't wearing any pants.

The young fox gasped, "Are you really feeling alright, Sonic? You suddenly passed out a minute ago, and now you're not acting like yourself. Also, why would you think I'm your dad? I'm Tails, your best friend!"

A series of strange memories previously unknown to him suddenly began to flood Sonic's drug-addled mind. The hedgehog fell to his knees, panting heavily, "...Tails, old buddy? Sorry, I don't know what got into me. It almost feels like I was a different person for a minute there. C'mon, let's go kick egghead's butt!"

Almost as if a switch had been flipped in his mind, Sonic the Hedgehog's personality changed completely in a second. Gone were his whore-mongering, profane, genocidal, freedom-loving, and fiercely patriotic ways. As the minutes continued to pass, Sonic began having trouble recalling any details about his waking life.

But before the duo could rush off into the distance, a third figure approached from behind and grabbed Sonic by the arm. "Hey now, why are you in such a rush? The American warrior I know would never leave his country behind when it needs him the most. Isn't that right… _dad?"_ The sweaty man behind him grumbled in a low voice. _  
_

Standing before Sonic and Tails was none other than _Richard Milhous Nixon,_ an honorable warrior from an alternate future of the United States of America that gave up his life to save his star-spangled world. Nixon sat down on the smoking remains of a Badnik and smirked, "Don't fall for it, Sonic. None of what you see here is real. It's all just a trick to keep you trapped inside your own mind for the rest of your life. And the longer you stay in this fictional reality, the harder it will be to leave. Eventually, you'll completely forget who you are and will want to stay here forever. What will it be: will you remain in this comforting lie, or will you come with me back to the real world?"

"The real world? Why would I ever want to go back to that America place, anyway? I've got everything I need right here. There's no war, no Communists, and nobody ever dies. Besides, who's to say that this is a dream? What if that other life was a dream and this is my reality? If anything, I'd say it's you who's the figment of my imagination. Thanks, but no thanks!" Sonic scoffed at Nixon's offer. Tricky Dick crinkled his nose to convey his disgust.

"Do you even hear yourself, old friend? Where's the righteous, fuckfurious hedgehog that made everyone believe that saving America wasn't just some insane dream? Where's _that_ Sonic? Your homies are dying out there. Could you really abandon Anne Frank, Trump, and everyone else? Are you just going to let them all get slaughtered by the Communists? Tell me!" Richard Nixon demanded and grabbed Sonic by the chest, desperately trying to snap him into his right mind.

"My… homies?" Sonic rasped in a hushed voice. He then turned to gawk at the world around him, which now appeared just as alien as it did when he first arrived. The feeling of familiarity of the locale had finally fled from his mind, along with the hedgehog's fake persona, bringing him back to his senses.

Sonic the Hedgehog let out a masculine gorilla screech and tore his studded belt asunder, dropping his denim jeans. He whipped his artificial gun cock around and began firing wildly, blowing Tails's body to pieces and setting the Green Hill ablaze for no reason at all. The American warlord then removed his electric guitar from its case and pounded out a pious black metal riff, furiously thrashing his head all the while. As foretold of in legend, _it was metal as fuck._

The illusionary world dispersed as Sonic regained his lucidity, depositing him and the spirit of Richard Nixon back into the empty vacuum where they had arrived. Nixon thinly smiled and bowed his head, "You really are something, you know that? You've always been my greatest inspiration, dad. But there's one last thing you need to do before you can leave this place. Unless you find your inner peace, you'll never truly be able to master the Patriotic Drive. There's still one mental roadblock that's holding you back. You've tried so hard to act like it didn't happen, but you can't run away from your grief forever. Even now, you're still haunted by it, right? _Americageddon,_ I mean."

Sonic shuddered at the mere mention of the event. He crinkled his brow and turned his face away from Nixon, dodging the question. Tricky Dick took a step closer and continued, "You know you can't hide anything from a fellow American, Sonic. When Lincoln was killed by Adam Sandler, your power went out of control and you ended up killing dozens of your own people. It was a horrible accident, but I don't blame you for it. I doubt any of us could have resisted a master manipulator like Sandler. But yet you still blame yourself for what happened, just like when you blamed yourself for Barkley and Michael Jordan's deaths. You can't afford to hide from your grief any longer. If you can't forgive yourself and move on, you'll never be able to become any more than you are now. There's just one question I have left to ask: _who are you, Sonic the Hedgehog?"_

Sonic lowered his head and chuckled forcefully, "Heh... y'know, it's not the first time I've been asked that question. I used to think I was a guy who slayed Commies for fun. Later, I fooled myself into thinking I was some kind of great fuckin' American like Lincoln was. But now I've realized that neither of these are true. I'm a shitty person who fucks up all the time. I may be an American, but sometimes I'm just as bad as the Marxists I've waged war against. Today has made me realize something: I still have a long, long way to go until I can become the man this country needs. You're right; I can't run away from my problems into some gay dream world or dwell in the past any longer. The Biker Brethren are dead, and they ain't ever coming back. There are people right here, right now that need me. And for their sake, I need to become stronger! Stronger than Lincoln or anyone else has ever been!"

"That's more like it! There's the fuckfurious hedgehog I remember. So, how do you intend to save your homies?" Nixon asked.

"Being an American is all about sacrifice. If I'm gonna be livin' it large n' shit, I've got to fight with all I've got even if it means losing myself in the process. I'm going to call upon my Nazi side like I did during Americageddon, but this time is going to be different. I'm not going to fear my inner darkness anymore, nor am I going to let it control me. Instead, I'm going to take that darkness and turn it into patriotism! I'm going to _make America great again!"_ Sonic lifted his skinny fists like antennas to heaven and roared with righteous fury and star-spangled determination.

Having successfully inspired him to fight once more, Dick Nixon turned his back and started walking off into the distance. He lowered his gaze and tearfully saluted the brave hedgehog, "In that case, I don't have anything to worry about. I can see that our country is still in good hands. The battle of yesterday was ours, but now it's up to you! I wish you all the best, dad. I don't think we'll see each other again. Sayonara, Sonic..."

* * *

"...That was an unfulfilling sacrifice. Even after such an enjoyable duel, I still desire to spill more American blood! Well, I suppose the rest of these miserable creatures will have to suffice for the time being," Adolf Hitler murmured under his breath as he dropped Ice Cube's badly beaten, nearly unrecognizable body. Jimmy Neutron shook with utter terror as the twelve apocalyptic Nazis slowly approached their location. With Trump and Sonic still out of commission and Alex Jones barely able to stand, the hopelessness of their situation had become all too clear.

With a flick of his wrist, the first of the twelve sent both Jimmy and Alex flying miles into the distance without even touching them. Thirsting solely for the blood of Sonic and Trump, the strongest warriors among their group, he swung his fist downwards with the intention of skewering them both on the sand.

However, the unearthly Führer stopped dead in his tracks as he heard Sonic the Hedgehog manage a faint, hoarse whisper, _"Cut my life into pieces..."_

In that moment, the impossible happened. The miracle that Jimmy Neutron had been desperately praying for had finally come to pass. Against all odds, Sonic the Hedgehog rose and unleashed a devastating short-range punch that decimated Hitler's body and splattered his blood and butchered remains all across the interior of the Terrordome. The hedgehog then let out a loud, black metal scream, "...This is my **「LAST RESORT」**!"

"Suffocation, no breathing! Don't give a fuck if I cut my arm, bleeding!" The raging hedgehog roared as he leapt into the air and flew across the battlefield towards the remaining eleven Hitler duplicates. He proceeded to utterly pulverize them with little effort, hacking them into pieces with his bare fists whilst simultaneously shrugging off dozens of their galaxy-destroying blasts. He then utterly annihilated what few of them had survived by driving his fist into the sand, leveling the planet's deserted towns and folding the earth in on itself.

Alex Jones and Father Neutron both watched the ensuing clash of titanic powers with bated breath. "That goddamn honkey... he's incredible! I've never seen such a comeback before. A minute ago he could barely move, and now he's dealing with them all by himself! Something about his appearance has changed too. Is this the power of that Patriotic Drive thing?" Jimmy questioned, his eyes still fixed on the fight at hand.

Sonic's muscles and frame had nearly tripled in size after his awakening. His throbbing veins flared red, seeming to almost glow through his skin with a dazzling light. Additionally, his flesh and quills had been dyed jet black and a toothbrush mustache had grown above his upper lip.

"It would seem so, little cuz. But it's not just that. He's called upon a dark source of energy from deep within his soul, the very embodiment of all his negative emotions. You could even call it his Nazi side. Right now, he's about half Nazi and half American. That clever bastard is using the power of the enemy against them, something not even the strongest Communists would be able to fight! He's become _Sonic the Übermensch!"_ Alex Jones praised in astonishment. _  
_

Unlike before, Brendan Fraser now appeared visibly shaken. Feigning confidence, the Backstreet Boy put on a brave face and decided to challenge the genocidal patriot, "Nrgh... do you really think that will be enough to end this? I'll just make more Hitlers to take their place! Hundreds more! No, _THOUSANDS!_ Not even a monster like you will be able to hold out forever. I will kill you and bring Bugs Bunny-sama back, no matter how many how many ghost warriors it takes! I won't let all these years of pain and suffering be for nothing! There's absolutely nothing you can do to sto—"

 _"FUCK this stupid dildo!"_ Sonic the Hedgehog bellowed with indignation as he hurled himself at Brendan Fraser, poised to attack. With one final, planet-shattering uppercut, Sonic sent Fraser flying helplessly through the firmament of the dome.

The Terrordome instantly disintegrated on impact, and the reinforced steel that once lined its walls began to fall from the sky. Brendan plummeted back to earth with it, barely breathing. Sinking deeply into unconsciousness, he took the time to reminisce about his life and all of the choices that led him to this point.

* * *

All of the Backstreet Boys gathered around the dinner table to celebrate their first successful mission as a group. "Itadakimasu!" Garfield said before he began chowing down on his feast of lasagna.

The other members soon joined him, engaging in drunken merriment and song as a family. Brendan Fraser stared down at his plate of chicken tendies and then looked at the rest of his comrades, who were all enjoying their time together and celebrating their victory. Overcome with emotion, Fraser lowered his head and began to gently weep on the tablecloth.

"Hey, what's wrong, laddy? Is something the matter?" Garfield asked out of concern. Brendan shook his head and wiped the tears from his eyes.

He grinned, "N-No. It's just... thank you. Thank you all for taking me in. I never thought I'd be a part of a family again after the Looney Tunes died. I... _I never thought I'd be this happy again..."_ He then threw back his head and began wailing harder than ever, moved by the compassion of his friends.

Before he met Larry the Cable Guy, he had nothing. He had no will to live and no reason to carry on. And if it weren't for their kindness, he was sure that he would have taken his own life long ago. The Backstreet Boys had given Brendan Fraser a second chance to live once more. For that, he was eternally indebted to them.

* * *

Sonic the Hedgehog swung his gargantuan fists again and knocked out almost all of Brendan's teeth, making blood spew from his mouth. Even as he laid beaten and bloody on the sand, utterly defeated by his mighty foe, he smiled.

"Larry, Garfield, Steve, Crazy Frog... I tried so hard to fight for your cause, but I guess this is how it was meant to be. Thank you all so much for taking in a no-good bastard like me. _Thank you, everyone..._


	17. Extra: Sonic the Hedgehog Fact File (V2)

**PREPARE YOURSELF FOR THE ULTIMATE REDPILL. IN THIS CHAPTER, I WILL TEACH YOU ABOUT THE WISDOM OF THE LEMURIAN ELDERS, PIEADIAN STAR SEEDS, THE HOLLOW EARTH, AND HOW TO ATTUNE YOURSELF TO HEALING CRYSTAL ENERGY. THE TRUTH WILL BE REVEALED. PLEASE ENJOY!**

Sonic the Hedgehog _(Sonikku za Hejjihoggu)_ is an immensely powerful American warlord and a former member of the elite fighting force known as the Biker Brethren. After the events of Americageddon, he swore revenge on all of Communism and began a bloody crusade against the followers of Karl Marx. He's taken a vow to let nothing stop him, not even death itself, until he finally completes this task and restores the United States to its former glory. His primary weapons are his artificial gun dick and dual machine guns, and his main source of transportation is a motorcycle that he calls "Harley David Son of a Bitch." Sonic is also a diehard fan of the Insane Clown Posse.

Sonic is a man of imposing stature that often dwarfs any enemies he encounters. His large frame and rippling muscles are covered in scars and unhealed wounds, and he has a tattoo of a bald eagle on his right bicep. Unlike Trump, Sonic tends to dress in a considerably more casual fashion. He can usually be seen wearing a pair of worn-out denim jeans and an unbuttoned biker jacket with no undershirt beneath it.

Sonic has a notable propensity for mass-genocide and solves just about every problem he comes across with his shotgun. Though outwardly gruff and irritable, he cares greatly for the few people that have managed to earn his respect and is fiercely protective of them. For some reason, he seems to admire professional basketball players more than anyone else. Sonic is the kind of person that acts like he carries the weight of the whole world on his shoulders, personally blaming himself when anything goes wrong. Because of this, he's distanced himself from others and almost never accepts the aid of his fellow Americans.

On his deathbed, Tupac Shakur once prophesied that the spirit of Adolf Hitler would one day be reincarnated into the body of an American child. While there is little proof to back this up, Abraham Lincoln strongly believes that Sonic is the one who currently possesses Hitler's life force inside of him. Others, like the members of the Harlem Globetrotters, also share this theory. While it is currently unknown if he truly does possess the reborn spirit of the accursed Führer, Sonic clashes frequently with what he calls his "inner Communist" and has even let this dark persona control him on a few occasions.

Sonic the Hedgehog is the only son of Tails the Fox and Ryūko Matoi and was born on the space colony of Mount Vernon Theta. This remote world was later occupied by _Enver Hoxha_ and his band of Communist mercenaries, who extorted money from the townspeople in exchange for their continued survival. Their blockade of the planet resulted in the death of Sonic's mother, who could not get the medicine she needed to treat an easily curable illness that she had contracted. Sonic learned to despise the Marxists as he grew older and trained himself in secret to become as strong as the legendary Americans who fearlessly fought the forces of Marx on the field of battle.

He eventually challenged Hoxha and his men to a duel, but was easily defeated and nearly killed by his enemies. However, his life was saved by a wandering American soldier known as _Alex Jones._ With his help, Sonic gained the courage to fight back and struck down Enver Hoxha with his blade. When his father returned home from the war, Sonic was appalled to discover that Tails had betrayed his country and defected to the side of Communism. Sonic later slew his father while he slept and drove off on his Harley Davidson™ motorcycle, never looking back.

After departing on his quest, Sonic became the apprentice of Colonel Sanders and learned how to further hone his combat skills. However, the two went their separate ways after a heated debate on whose favorite waifu was better. The years continued to pass and the aspiring patriot grew into a fine young man who still thoroughly enjoyed slaying Commies for fun and sexual pleasure. Such is only natural for a man of the lord such as Sonic.

In the year 2004, Sonic the Hedgehog encountered Abraham Lincoln by chance while clashing with the forces of the enemy. Greatly impressed by his limitless fuckfury and divine patriotism, Lincoln offered Sonic to join the Biker Brethren, a resistance movement he had brought together to topple Karl Marx's growing empire. In a decision that would forever change his fate, Sonic accepted his offer and joined Honest Abe on his quest.

While distrusting of them at first, Sonic soon bonded with the six members of the Biker Brethren and became quite attached to them. He held a great deal of respect for Michael Jordan in particular, who, in his own eloquent words, is the "person he wanted to kill the least."

However, these joyful days were not to last. After a successful mission to reclaim the electric guitar of George Washington, the bikers were ambushed by Karl Marx's strongest warriors and were quickly overwhelmed. Left with no other options, Michael Jordan sacrificed himself to defeat the enemy and deliver his allies to safety.

Sonic the Hedgehog honored his final wish by adopting his son, Charles Barkley, and raising him in the baller's place. Dark forces were also beginning to stir in the far outreaches of the American galaxy. Adolf Hitler had conquered death and returned to the world of the living, now determined to destroy all life in the Americaverse as revenge for his previous defeat.

Abraham Lincoln left on his own to try and defeat Hitler before he could regain his full strength. While he was absent, Sonic the Hedgehog and his allies were once again pursued by Marx's assassins. Sonic encountered Donald Trump for the first time on the planet Kentucky Prime while on a mission of a personal nature. During their brief confrontation, Trump found himself to be extremely fascinated by Sonic's profane, genocidal behavior and kept a close eye on him ever since.

Tragedy struck again when the Biker Brethren encountered Taylor Swift and Kevin James, the monstrous heirs of Karl Marx and Trump's employers. Charles Barkley followed in his father's footsteps by giving up his own life to help defeat the two vile Communist lords. Blaming himself for the death of his adoptive son, Sonic left the Biker Brethren and returned back to his solitary way of life.

While journeying on his own, Sonic found companionship in the members of the Wu-Tang Clan. The hedgehog drowned out his grief by smoking an inhuman amount of ganja with his new ally, RZA, who he tolerated only for the free pot he gave him. At the behest of Richard Nixon, Sonic and his newfound allies joined the resistance group known as the Last Alliance of True American Heroes. However, this organization isn't what it seemed. It was actually a part of an elaborate scheme devised by Adam Sandler, the estranged son of Karl Marx, to enslave innocent Americans and force them to carry out his twisted plans for the Americaverse.

Fortunately, Richard Simmons revealed the truth of his devious plot before Sonic could fall into his trap. With precious little time left, Sonic and the Wu-Tang Clan raced to the Communist homeworld in order to prevent the cataclysmic massacre that Adam Sandler sought to cause. Tragically, their efforts were in vain. Abraham Lincoln lost his life in a duel with Sandler, along with thousands of other innocent Americans.

Overcome with anger, Sonic the Hedgehog succumbed to his Communist side and flew into a genocidal fuckrage. It wasn't until after he had slain several of his own kind and nearly dismantled Anne Frank that he finally came back to his senses. Mere minutes after his return, Sonic was killed by a slam dunk from _Charles Darkley,_ a clone of the original Barkley made to fight solely for the Communist empire.

With Sonic and the Biker Brethren utterly defeated, Adam Sandler succeeded in his goal of annihilating Wolfschanze in the bloodbath that would later be dubbed as "Americageddon." Utilizing the godly energy granted to him by the McDemons, Sandler ushered in a new age of darkness and recreated the patriotverse into a Marxist utopia. Such is the most unholy of all acts.

Sonic was later revived after the hellish fight by Richard Nixon's healing energy. Determined to avenge the victims of Americageddon, the righteous hedgehog set out on his motorcycle to wage his solitary war against all of Communism. He abandoned all of his morals in order to complete his task, and on many occasions his brutality far surpassed that of his enemies. By all accounts, his title of "Communist-Hunter" was well deserved.

It wouldn't be until much later that he finally began fighting for his loved ones once more and abandoned his obsession with revenge. Now dedicated to saving his son from the hands of the enemy, Sonic the Hedgehog and his growing fellowship of American warlords march to the planet Stalingrad III for their final confrontation with the Backstreet Boys.

Sonic unlocked his latent Patriotic Drive abilities after finally forgiving himself for the deaths of the Biker Brethren and moving on with his life. While it proved to be extremely effective against Brendan Fraser, only time will tell if this new technique will be enough to defeat Larry the Cable Guy and his loyal acolytes.

* * *

 **Cut My Life into Pieces, This Is My:  
**

 **「LAST RESORT」**

* * *

 **(PATRIOTISM: 8) (SPEED: 5)**

 **(DEFENSE: 2) (DICKERY: 7)**

 **(DEADLINESS: 9) (STREET CRED: 10)**

 **(ABILITY TYPE: AUGMENTER)**

* * *

Gives Sonic the ability to properly control his inner Communism and use it to greatly enhance his patriotism and psychical abilities. Unlike during his fight with Adam Sandler, where he first discovered the technique on accident, Sonic retains his mental faculties in this state while also being able to call upon the monstrous strength chained within him. This form represents a perfect harmony between both _hikari_ and _yami,_ similar to the strength Karl Lincoln once possessed.

In addition, this technique greatly alters Sonic's physiology and changes him to become nearly double his original size when active. His speed is halved in this form due to his massive frame and he loses some of his agility, but his bolstered strength more than makes up for this downside. **「Last Resort」** also temporarily mends his bones and prevents Sonic from feeling any pain, allowing him to fight even with serious injuries. **  
**

But the longer this ability remains active, the greater strain it puts on both Sonic's body and mind. Eventually, his Communist side would take over his mind completely and transform him into an unstoppable, mindless force of destruction. Because of this, he can only rely upon this power for short periods of time to beat down his enemies before they have any chance of fighting back.

* * *

 **Last Resort Stage Two:  
**

 **「KORN」**

* * *

 **(PATRIOTISM: 5) (SPEED: 7)**

 **(DEFENSE: 3) (DICKERY: 10)**

 **(DEADLINESS: 10) (STREET CRED: 10)**

 **(ABILITY TYPE: AUGMENTER)**

* * *

The second Patriotic Drive ability in Sonic's arsenal. It can be considered an upgraded version of his first technique because of how similar it functions. Like its predecessor, **「Korn」** triggers a drastic transformation that greatly strengthens Sonic's physical abilities. But while **「Last Resort」** only utilizes a third of his latent Communist energy, **「Korn」** uses over half.

When active, Sonic's already monstrous strength is multiplied ten fold. He also gains greatly enhanced speed in this state unlike his previous transformation. His healing abilities are also considerably more effective. While his previous transformation could only heal small wounds and temporarily mend his bones, this ability allows him to regenerate entire limbs without exerting any energy. According to Garfield, Sonic is almost as strong as Larry the Cable Guy while in this form.

The strain placed on Sonic's psyche is also considerably greater in this form. It can only be safely used for around one minute without running the risk of Adolf Hitler completely taking over his mind.


	18. An Elegy for Bugs Bunny

**LOOKING TO PURCHASE THIRD WORLD IMMIGRANT WORKERS TO WRITE ALL OF MY FANFICTION FOR ME. DOES ANYONE KNOW WHERE I CAN BUY SOME OF THESE QUALITY BUGMEN? THANK YOU.**

 _The Terrordome has been shattered, Brendan Fraser's undead army has been crushed, and all is well again in the Americaverse. Only one question remains: what drove Fraser to become the twisted Communist lord he is today?_

* * *

Many would have you believe that Space Jam is simply a myth. That everything that Bugs Bunny and Michael Jordan did to save our country from alien invaders never happened. But I know the truth. I know that the Looney Tunes are real, and that they gave up their lives to defeat the Monstars and save the universe. Space Jam really happened, and I was there when it all went down.

I'll never forget Michael Jordan's game-winning shot that ended the war, and I'll never forget the sacrifices made by Bugs, Lola, Porky, Bill Murray, and the rest of the Tune Squad. For as long as I live, I'll carry on their memory by telling their tragic tale to anyone that will listen. As long as the Looney Tunes are still remembered, they'll never truly be gone.

There's nothing I despise more than "fate." Just as some are blessed by the hands of fate, others like myself are cursed by it. I've fought tooth and nail to defy the cruel destiny I've been dealt, but every time fate always finds a way to tear me down and cast me back into despair. You must believe me when I say that there are many things far worse than death in this world.

And here I am now, being beaten half to death by some miserable American that couldn't even lay a finger on me five minutes ago. By a man miraculously chosen as fate's champion, while I am hated by it. Fate has destroyed everything I've lived for once again. I should have known better than to think this could have worked out any other way.

What I've done is only natural, isn't it? Is it really so wrong to try and bring the Looney Tunes back to life? How is it fair for the wicked to survive and the righteous to perish and be forgotten? Their story deserves to be heard! The lives of the unwashed masses I've sacrificed are nothing compared to someone as beautiful, powerful, and awe-inspiring as Bugs Bunny-sama!

He would be so proud of me! He would want me to do this for him... _right?_

* * *

Brendan Fraser ran the same question through his mind several times while plummeting back to the earth. Sonic the Hedgehog's flaming fists came crashing down upon his face once more, planting him deep into the dirt. The sheer force of his impact folded the planet's crust in on itself, burying Fraser under hundreds of pounds of sand and the smoking remains of the Terrordome.

"Got anything else to say, dumbass? Before I chop your head off with my dick, I mean," Sonic grumbled as he yanked Brendan Fraser's battered body out of the pile of debris by his turkey neck. The Backstreet Boy merely threw back his head and laughed in response. Garfield is determined to track down the vandal that destroyed his Bailey Jay shrine.

"Heh… what you just showed me was impressive. Amazing, even. I never thought that I'd meet someone who might actually be a match for the Cable Guy in a fight. Have you ever wondered why you're able to defeat Communists that no one else can, kid? Have you ever thought about _why_ you're so strong? Have you ever felt like the whole world revolved around you? Like God himself was pulling the strings to make sure you survive? Humans are prone to failure. They always make mistakes. But you… you're different," Fraser began to speak in a low voice.

The musclebound hedgehog scoffed at his words, "Pssht, what kinda glass dick are you smoking from? I've lost plenty of times. I'm nothing special. I'm just a guy who likes big titties and shootin' up Commies." Sonic took out his pocket knife and used it to sharpen the head of his cybernetic gun member to pass the time.

"Maybe so. You've lost before, but anyone else in your position would have died ten times over by now. The fact that you're still standing here is a statistical impossibility in of itself! You're not even half as strong as someone like Abe Lincoln, but yet you still somehow survive each monstrous enemy you face. There's only one explanation: you're getting preferential treatment by some arbitrary god. I call this god "fate" — and I'm certain that it's been protecting you for a reason. For some higher purpose that nobody can guess," He further explained his theory.

"Gods? Fate? Now I know that you've been gettin' shitfaced on some butt hash. The hell are you even going on about?" Sonic laughed it off, but couldn't deny the logic in his words.

Out of the billions that were slaughtered during Americageddon, it couldn't have been any mere coincidence that he was one of the tiny fraction of the population that survived. There had to be _some_ reason as to why he was always destined to survive the gruesome demise of the Biker Brethren, even in Richard Nixon's ill-fated future.

"Some people call this god destiny. Others know this transcendental power as the 'Globalists' or the cycle of time. Either way, this force is what we Backstreet Boys have devoted our lives to defeat! We're all victims of a terrible fate, not unlike you. My true goal is harnessing the power of Communism to destroy fate and create my own destiny from its ashes! And if you're the champion of fate, then I have no choice but to kill you here and now. _NOTHING will stop me from saving Bugs Bunny!"_ Brendan Fraser screeched at the top of his lungs, still unwilling to give in.

The ground beneath Sonic's feet began to shake wildly as the depraved Communist activated his ultimate technique. Brendan Fraser raised his fists to the sky and cackled, "Life, death, alimony… none of that will matter anymore! I'm going to sculpt my own destiny! Nobody will ever have to die again, I'll bring them all back! I'll be a better deity than that miserable Washington ever was! What can a shitty mortal like you do against a _GOD_ who can conquer even fate? This is the end!"

Fraser suddenly threw open his trench coat and began to stuff all of his prized wax figurines down his throat. He absorbed the souls trapped inside them into his own body as he choked on their girth, mutating himself into a grotesque, bulbous shape. His gangly body began to contort excruciatingly, tumefying and swelling to the point where he towered over the battlefield and covered the land below in a shroud.

He let out a twisted, pained shout as his skull elongated outwards and an array of salivating fangs sprouted from his badly scarred maw. His horrific new form could only be compared to that of a chimera, with the disparate body parts of all of the Looney Tunes having sprouted out from his shredded flesh like overgrown, fetid tumors. Nobody can figure out why Steve Buscemi has started putting brackets around the names of Jewish people.

His gnarled visage had become a nightmarish caricature of Daffy Duck, his torso was lifted straight from the Tasmanian Devil, his front legs had reshaped into the hooves of a pig, on his back were the powerful hind legs of a Road Runner, and the tail of a skunk could be seen hanging limply from the end of his spine.

The mutated Looney Tune abomination scuttled forth on all-fours and began to madly shriek godless blasphemies and bad anime recommendations into the night. Father Jimmy Neutron retched at the horrific sight of the aberrant beast standing before him, a true blasphemy of God's creations if there ever were such a thing.

Alex Jones cautiously stepped backwards and swore under his breath, "Dammit! If I'm understanding his power correctly, then that means that he's sucked up all of the souls he's captured in those dolls like a vacuum. That bastard's now got the strength of a small army on his side! Unlock your human potential, little cuz! _DEFEAT_ the Globalists that want to shatter your mind, your doorways to perception! Kick his ass, Sonic!"

As a show of force, Brendan Fraser drove his gigantic fists into the earth and split the entire continent they stood upon into two separate halves. The cracks between the two unutterably massive landmasses widened and drifted apart, revealing the planet's molten core in the crevasse between them.

Fraser tackled Sonic into the planet's fiery depths, attempting to incinerate him in a last-ditch effort to win their heated fight. The fuckfurious hedgehog wriggled his way out of the beast's sweaty grasp and jumped off of the air itself, allowing himself to leap several hundred times in succession until he reached solid ground. The Backstreet Boy chased not far behind by scaling up the walls of the chasm until he too stood before the American warlord once more.

"...You, a god? Well, what's a god to a non-believer?" Sonic chuckled as he withdrew his dual machine guns from his trench coat. He then leapt into the air and sliced Fraser's pustulent stomach open with a single stroke of his electric guitar, spilling a tidal wave of his blood and entrails onto the sand.

Brendan countered by smacking the hedgehog back down to the ground with the back of his mutated pimp hand. He wheezed in pain and clutched his stomach, nursing his grievous injury as he lumbered forwards.

"Everything is controlled by fate! That's why I need to become even stronger than fate, stronger than God! Only then can Bugs come back to life! Everything I've done has been entirely for his sake. During the quest to find the Blue Monkey diamond, he saved my life from enemy soldiers and took me under his wing. I'd be dead if it weren't for him! _Why won't you just die already so that he can live again?!"_ Fraser cried out hysterically as he proceeded to stomp on Sonic's face while he was down.

Sonic shakily rolled over and wiped away the blood streaming down his chin. He used a boulder as leverage and attempted to stand, but fell back to his knees with a shout from the pain of his injuries. Crazy Frog still doesn't realize that he's reading all of his Japanese manga in the wrong direction.

He snarled, "Fuck, I should've known this would happen! That Patriotic Drive ability I unlocked must have only temporarily mended all of my wounds from before. Now that time's almost up, my bones are snapping into pieces again one by one. I've got to slay the fuck out of him now while I can still fight!"

The American hedgehog's muscles began to rapidly deflate and his skin color returned to normal as his **「** **Last Resort** **」** technique approached the end of its time limit. Left without even a second to spare, Sonic charged at full speed towards Brendan Fraser and hurled his broken, battered body upon him. Both of their strongest punches connected at the exact same instant, sending the two weary combatants flying backwards and destroying several lesser star systems in the process.

After hurtling across the sand, Sonic mustered up the very last of his strength and launched himself at this baleful sodomite once again. He began wildly swinging his fists and dick in Brendan's direction and let out a loud, unrestrained black metal screech, "Wake up! Grab a brush and put on a little makeup! Hide your scars to fade away the shakeup! Why'd you leave the keys upon the table? Here you go, create another fable!"

The patriotic hedgehog took both of his machine guns into his calloused hands and stuffed an additional pistol between his teeth, allowing him to effectively wield four firearms at once. He wasn't able to actually pull the trigger on the gun clamped between his teeth, but he kept it there anyway because, in his own words, it looked "metal as fuck."

"I don't think you trust in my self-righteous suicide! I cry, when angels deserve to… _DIE!"_ Sonic roared as he opened fire with all of the fully automatic weapons at his disposal. Brendan Fraser did his best to flee from the storm of bullets raining down upon him, but was unable to escape when the genocidal hedgehog fired a heat-seeking missile from his cybernetic gun cock.

Fraser shrugged off the massive explosion with only minimal injuries and lunged, digging his fangs deep into Sonic's torso. He spoke with a harsh, throaty grumble, "Pathetic, pathetic, _PATHETIC!_ Did you think your luck would last forever? You may have friends, family, and loved ones… but you'll lose all of them one day, just like I did! One of these days, fate is going to decide to just fuck your shit up and you'll lose everything you care about. All it would take is one bad day and you'd be no different than me. You should thank me, I'm going to kill you now before you ever have to know the pain that I feel!"

Brendan Fraser viciously whipped his head around and threw Sonic's limp body to the ground. The bones in his legs finally gave way to the pressure and snapped as he tried to stand, forcing the hedgehog back down. Alex Jones is shocked when he unearths the secret connection between the Globalists and the Bogdanoff brothers.

Brendan sneered at the pitiable sight. "I'll give you three seconds to stand and fight me, or I'm going to kill you now. Get up! Or are you telling me that you concede to the superior power of my Communism?" He taunted, already knowing that Sonic was no longer in any condition to fight.

Unable to move, Sonic merely lifted his head and growled, "That's the difference between you and me, you pinko bastard! We've all got dead people, but we can't afford to dwell in the past forever. It took a damn long time, but I've finally come to terms with my homies being dead. I've moved on and I'm stronger because of it. No matter how much you wish for it, your family ain't comin' back. You can't waste your life living only for the sake of dead people, you roody-poo-ass nigga!"

"You think that's enough to sway me? I've killed too many people to turn back now. Sure, I felt guilty at first. But it got easier with time. What's one more life when I'm so close to completing my goal? Why would I repent now that I've almost conquered my fate?" Brendan Fraser moistened his lips with his forked tongue as he approached the fallen American. He reached out his hand, preparing to forcibly rip out Sonic's memories with his Patriotic Drive ability and use them to recreate Bugs Bunny's heavenly soul.

"So, it's memories of Bugs Bunny-san you want, right? Shit, you should've said so sooner, nigga. In that case, take mine. I used to be acquainted with him and the Looney Tunes a lifetime ago. Just promise me that you'll spare these crazy kids, alright?" Ice Cube stepped forward and humbly offered.

Sonic the Hedgehog's eyes widened with shock in response. He gasped, "The hell are you saying, curve peeler? Doing that would kill you! I just don't get it… why are you trying to so damn hard to save all of our lives? We've never even met before today!"

Ice Cube merely lowered his head and chuckled, dodging his question. "A willing volunteer? What an unexpected twist of fate. I take it you finally realized the hopelessness of going against me? Very well, I'll accept your gracious offering!" Brendan happily agreed. He reached out his gargantuan hand and rested the tip of his index finger upon the rapper's forehead, siphoning out his memories and all of his life energy with it.

Completely drained, Ice Cube lost consciousness and collapsed onto the sand. A wax doll of Bugs Bunny then materialized itself into Brendan Fraser's six-fingered hands. _"B-Bugs-senpai…"_ Tears of joy began to stream uncontrollably down his face as he cradled the enchanted idol in his bosom.

After so many years of pain and suffering, Brendan Fraser had finally succeeded in his goal of bringing the Looney Tunes back to life. "Danse Macabre: **「** **Beastie Boys** **」**!" At long last, he uttered the name of his forbidden technique and released the spirit of the noble rabbit from its container.

The silhouette of a large, musclebound figure soon emerged from the smoking ruins of the Terrordome and slowly stepped forward. His rippling muscles glistened with the dew of the morning and the tears of angels, reflecting the light of the sun off of him with an ethereal glow that made him look almost otherworldly in appearance.

It immediately became clear to all that gazed upon his majesty that Bugs Bunny was no mere child of mortal men. Brendan Fraser began to weep harder than ever as the rabbit parted his rosy lips and spoke in a warm, kind voice, _"Eh,_ _what's up doc?"_

"So, that's the cracker Michael Jordan talked so much about, huh? Why did you sacrifice your life to bring him back, then? What was the point of giving that Commie fucker exactly what he wanted after he tried to murder us all?" Sonic questioned under his breath as he knelt down over Ice Cube's unconscious body. Bugs Bunny silently paced around the battlefield, trying to piece together what had happened to him.

Brendan Fraser spread his arms apart and shifted closer to his adoptive father. "D-Dad! Don't you recognize me? It's Brendan, your son! I… I finally brought you back to life! It took so long, but you're finally here!" He wiped the tears from his eyes and spoke. Bugs Bunny furrowed his brow in disbelief, struggling to comprehend how the twisted, vile creature standing before him was his beloved child.

"Br-Brendan? That can't really be you, can it? What happened? Where is this place, what's with all of these dead bodies? Tell me, dammit!" He demanded. Brendan was somewhat taken aback by his unusually hostile response. Out of all the scenarios for their reunion he had ran through his mind, he had never planned it would happen like this.

"A few hundred had to be sacrificed for us to be together again, but what does that matter? Who cares about a handful of dead people? Our family is finally whole again! Aren't you happy, dad?! I did this all for you and the Looney Tunes! I killed them all to bring you back, every last one of them! Even the women and children! And it was all worth it for you to be here now!" Fraser confessed without the slightest hint of regret or pity in his voice.

A look of sheer disgust and horror spread across Bugs Bunny's face in response. "Dear God…" Bugs keeled over and retched, barely getting the words out of his mouth. His face turned pale, and he began to feel extremely nauseous just from thinking about the horrible deeds Brendan had committed.

He proceeded to hurl chunks of blood, cartilage, and carrots all over the sand. "Son… what happened to you? How could you do this? _I... I don't even know who you are anymore."_

Brendan Fraser stood frozen in place, utterly speechless, "D-Dad…"

Bugs then knelt down and removed a revolver from the hands of one of the mutilated Communist corpses strewn at his feet. Without speaking, he placed the barrel of the gun in his mouth and wrapped his index finger around the trigger. He flicked away the tears flooding his soul and lowered his gaze.

Bug kept the barrel wedged between his teeth and spoke in a muffled, hoarse voice, "I hope you'll forgive me for this, son. This is the last time we're going to see each other. I hope what I'm about to do will help you see the error of your ways. All life is precious! I hope that you'll realize that like I have. All I ever wanted for you was to live your days in happiness. Please, honor my last wish and move on without me… _live!"_

Even after all of the atrocities he had committed, Bugs still couldn't bring himself to resent his son. He truly believed this was the only way to save him from his madness. Bugs Bunny made the biggest, cheesiest smile he possibly could as he clamped his gloved finger down on the trigger, "I love you, Brendan Fraser. _That's all, folks."_

The sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the night and was almost immediately drowned out by Fraser's bitter tears of grief. Bugs Bunny's mangled body collapsed to the sand, now just a lifeless as it was before.

Sonic the Hedgehog used his machine guns as a pair of makeshift crutches to stand. He kept his distance and watched silently as the Communist lamented his father's brutal death, almost pitying him. The American then turned back to Ice Cube's unmoving body, "I don't really get it, but you knew this would happen, didn't you? You knew Bugs Bunny would kill himself this whole time. That's why you let him take your life, right? Saving us all like that is pretty gay, but I respect you for it regardless."

"...He's really gone this time. If one of my ghost warriors takes their own life, I can't bring them back again. It's beyond my power. More than anything, I think I was always more afraid of losing my reason for living rather than not being able to see Bugs again. I've never actually lived a normal life before. I wouldn't even know where to begin. I guess I really am pathetic like you said, right?" Brendan laughed. However, the tears running down his face gave away his true feelings of sorrow.

The Communist-Hunter took a step closer and reached out his hand, "Stop it with the gay-ass water works, man. Just keep going no matter how bad it hurts. Actually live for once. I don't want to kill a fellow American no matter how shitty they are. If you renounce your loyalty to the Backstreet Boys now, I'll spare your life!"

Brendan Fraser chuckled and shook his head, "It's too late for me. Alimony's all I've got left. There's nothing for me out there in the real world. I now realize just how pointless it is trying to go up against something as immeasurably strong and powerful as fate. Who knows, maybe you'll be able to conquer your destiny? If anyone can change this shitty, fucked up world we live in, it's you. All I know is, I won't sully the honor of my friends by betraying them now. If you want me to stop, you'll just have to kill me in a duel."

"But that isn't what Bugs Bunny wanted! He died so that you could live! You'd just be wasting your life, you dumbass baka!" Sonic clenched his fists and shouted. Ignoring his words, Brendan bared his fangs and lunged at the unprepared hedgehog.

"Are you still spouting that weak bullshit after all of this? Don't dishonor me this way! If you won't fight me like a true American, then I'll force your hand. This will all end with one more attack! _I'm going to die fighting for the glory of Communism!"_ Brendan Fraser roared.

Left with no other alternative, Sonic fired his gun dick at the ground to launch himself hundreds of feet into the air. The ZOG-hating hedgehog drew back his fist as he plummeted through the cloud cover, poised to strike.

 _"...FUCK!"_ A sickening snap could be heard as he mercilessly brought his fist down upon him, shattering Fraser's skull into 1,488 pieces. The Backstreet Boy then fell limply to the ground, dead.

* * *

"Everyone… I can't feel Brendan-chan's energy signature anymore! Surely, that can't mean that he's—?" Garfield asked in a hushed voice, but deep down he already knew the answer. His Communist brethren soon all lowered their heads and began grieving for their fallen comrade. Crazy Frog patted Steve Buscemi on the back and consoled him as he openly wailed, deeply regretting that he didn't stay to assist him before.

Larry the Cable Guy threw his bottle of Jack Daniel's to the ground and slammed his fist on the nearest table in a fit of rage. "L-Larry-san…" Garfield began to speak, but stopped himself mid-sentence. Never had he seen him display such intense emotion in all of the years that he had been acquainted with him.

After his brief outburst, Larry took a deep breath and returned to his trademark calm, serene demeanor. He narrowed his gaze and began to speak in a perfectly flat, monotone voice more befitting of his usual self, "It appears that we underestimated the threat posed by the American resistance after all. Brendan Fraser was a treasured part of this family, and he will be missed dearly. I can pardon many things, but I cannot forgive anyone who would seek to destroy this family of ours. Mark my words: _I will find the Communist-Hunter, and I will BREAK him!"_

 **"Horrible things happen, but were they horrible? No, they were just circumstances of the world. I guess darkness serves a purpose: to show us that there is redemption through chaos. I believe in that." - Brendan J. Fraser, 500 AD**

 **This chapter is dedicated to the memory of Brendan Fraser, the tactical advisor of the Backstreet Boys and a veteran of the Space Jam War. May he find the peace in death that he never found in life.**


	19. The Dawn of the Neo Biker Brethren

**BUY HATCHET GEAR. MAKE A JUGGALOBOOK PROFILE. LOSE YOUR VIRGINITY AT THE GATHERING OF THE JUGGALOS.** ** **NAME YOUR FIRST-BORN SON "FAYGO."** DO ALL OF THESE THINGS AND YOU TOO CAN BECOME A GREAT FANFICTION AUTHOR!**

 _The first of the Backstreet Boys' Heavenly Kings has been slain in battle, leaving only four left for Sonic the Hedgehog and his patriotic band to track down and defeat. But will they be able to survive now that Larry the Cable Guy has sworn to avenge the death of his comrade?_

* * *

"...Everybody with a brain knows that the Hollow Earth is just a psyop concocted by ZOG to stop people from finding out about the Flat Earth. Now ain't that just fucking quacky, Sonic-kun?" Trump asked with a smug grin plastered on his face. Like always, Sonic genuinely couldn't tell if Donald's bizarre remarks were serious or just another one of his elaborate attempts to fuck with him.

The musclebound hedgehog sighed, "Man, I almost liked you better when you were dead. I shouldn't be surprised that the first thing you say after coming out of a coma is some gay shit like that. Anyway, I guess I'm glad that you're still alive and all. It'd be a pain in the dick to have to bury your ass."

"Caspita! I'm truly shocked, that was _almost_ a compliment! We really have become quite the inseparable pair, haven't we? You'd be lost without me!" Donald Trump teased.

"Nigga, you gay," Sonic scoffed, too prideful to admit that he would be dead if it weren't for his partner's selfless actions.

Although he would never say it outright, Sonic had come to greatly respect all of the members of his current patriotic fighting force. He no longer felt compelled to murder them all in a drunken fit of rage or just for sexual pleasure. Or at least, he wasn't as compelled as he once was. After the deaths of the Biker Brethren, he had never thought he would feel this way about a group of his fellow Americans again. It was a cathartic revelation, to say the least.

The hedgehog sat perched atop a heap of wolverine skulls and watched as his allies raised their beer mugs and celebrated their victory against Communism in the traditional, minimally-clothed way of their American forefathers. He then jumped backwards in surprise as the bone pile began to shuffle and a hand reached out from underneath. Sonic instinctively pulled out his glock, preparing for a fight.

"Oi, oi, oi, oi! Just 'cause I'm an old, narcoleptic nigga doesn't mean that you can just sit your ass down on me when I'm tryna' take a nap. The hell are your manners, you little shit?" Ice Cube grumbled. He crawled out from under the heap, removed his sleeping mask, and shot the hedgehog an irritated look. Sonic won't stop listening to nu-metal even though it went out of style years ago.

Sonic's eyes opened wide from disbelief, "Sorry about that, m'nigga. I thought you were dead, so I tossed you in that pile of bones so I'd have somewhere cushiony to sit. Wait, how the hell are you still alive? Shouldn't that damn Commie's ability have killed you?"

"Dead?" Ice Cube spoke, pondering the meaning of the word. "In a way, I guess I've been dead for a long time. My being here just confirms that. I always thought it was pretty strange that I always seemed to wake up wherever Fraser activated his ability. I might be narcoleptic, but I think even I would have helped out during the attack on Wolfschanze if I was able. Not to mention having memories of Bugs Bunny even though I've never met the damn guy. The truth seems pretty clear to me — the real Ice Cube died hundreds of years ago in his sleep, and I'm a clone of him created by Brendan Fraser," He explained.

Sonic cocked an eyebrow and scratched his head. "Hold up, wait just a fucking second. You trippin', ojisan? I haven't even gotten stoned today and that still doesn't make any goddamn sense to me. Why would that Commie make a ghost warrior that would just turn against him? And since he's dead, shouldn't you be gone too?" The hedgehog asked. Steve Buscemi vehemently refuses to empty his urine jugs.

"I don't quite understand it myself, but I don't think Brendan truly wanted to win. Deep down, a small part of him knew that this madness had to stop. That's why he let you kill him in the end. I think his subconscious mind summoned my spirit to stop his plans without him even realizing it. Drive abilities are so powerful that they've been rumored to disobey the commands of their masters from time to time, after all. They also say that Patriotic Drive powers only grow stronger after death. In my case, Brendan Fraser dying seems to have kept me alive for at least a little while longer. Hell, I might even be immortal now," Ice Cube mused with a smile.

The patriotic hedgehog leaned back onto the bone pile and lit the joint stuck between his lips. Sonic took a drag and exhaled, blowing out a puff of smoke shaped like a buxom scalie pole dancer. After calming his nerves, he let out a sigh, "So, you're a zombie or something, huh? I didn't understand any of that whack-ass shit you just said, but I'll take your word for it. I guess I should thank you for helping us out before. Why did you go to all the trouble to do that, anyway? Who are you?"

"Me? Name's Ice Cube, son of Vanilla Ice. I used to be someone important, but that was a long time ago. Now I'm just a relic of a bygone era of the Americaverse. The last of my kind. I've wandered this galaxy for 1,488 years searching for something I never thought I'd find. But today I found it. I finally found hope that the United States can still be saved. You've got what it takes, kid. People like you and your homies are going to be the ones who usher in this new era! Thanks to you, America still has a chance to be reborn!" Ice Cube smacked his lips together and raised his fist to the heavens, speaking with a voice full of conviction and star-spangled fuckfury.

Sonic closed his eyes and chuckled, "Well, you're right about that. But I ain't savin' America for your sake or because it's the right thing to do. I just want to get my son back and get some sweet android pussy as thanks for it. I've got a girl waiting for me at home named Anne Frank. She's got a bangin' ass, fat titties... she's the whole package. You ever fucked a robot, man? Shit is tight."

Ice Cube threw back his head and guffawed in response to the red-blooded warrior's lustful comments. The wise rapper then took on a considerably more serious mien and continued, "You've got tons of potential, kid. Not since I trained Tupac have I met an American that was such a prodigy in the fine art of slaying Commies with his genitals. But in your current state, you're not strong enough to save this country. You're just going to lose your life if you keep recklessly traveling down this path without being prepared. There are still many horrors out there far beyond your comprehension. That's why I have a serious request to make: _I want you to train with me._ Five years of your time is all I ask. Then you'd be prepared for anything. Whad'ya say, kid?"

"Five years? Nixon ain't gonna be alive in five fucking years! Maybe you're right about me being reckless, but I can't just sit by and do nothing. The forces of Communism are growing stronger by the day. You know I can't accept your offer, man," Sonic stated bluntly. "Why don't you come with us? We could use someone of your caliber fighting for the side of Lady Liberty. I won't share my dank weed with you, though. You'll have to get your own."

Ice Cube rose to his feet and glumly shook his head, "A few centuries ago, I would have gladly accepted. But I'm far too old to be runnin' around like the rest of you damn kids. I'd just end up holding you back. If you ever need me, I'll be out there. Somewhere wandering amongst the stars out past the planet Compton. Brendan wasn't wrong when he said that you had a higher power looking out for you, y'know. Should our fated paths cross again, I'll gladly come to your aid with my AK. Don't prove me wrong about you, you hear? There ain't no NWA, Tupac, or Biker Brethren to save yo ass now. It's up to you and only you to make America great again!"

After gathering his belongings, Ice Cube said his goodbyes and departed in the direction of the rising sun. He stopped dead in his tracks as Alex Jones moved out from behind the ruins of Brendan's mansion, blocking his path. The rapper grinned, "I was waiting for you to show up. It's been a long time, Alex Jones-san. Or whatever name you're calling yourself now. Are you still a Globalist puppet like in the old days?"

Alex Jones took out his harmonica and played the ancient melody of "Sweet Georgia Brown", a nostalgic tune for the both of them. He raised his head slightly, just enough for his face to be half-covered in shadow, and spoke, "Tsk. We haven't seen each other in over a millennium, and this is how you greet me? You know as well as I do that I've been fighting to defeat the Globalists for some time now. The biggest mistake I ever made was serving their vile race to begin with. Why do you still hold a grudge against me?"

The rapper folded his arms and scowled, looking to be in no mood for a casual chat. "I don't care about the past or our history together. What I want to know is why you're here. What business do you have with Sonic? Do you plan to make him fight your hopeless battle for you?" Ice Cube asked, his glistening sequin cape fluttering in the wind behind him as he held his ground. Jimmy Neutron refuses to smoke marijuana on religious grounds, claiming it's the "devil's lettuce."

Jones rubbed the back of his neck and groaned, "He's a man who's earned my respect, and I want to help him reach his goal. He's got nothing to do with my war with the Globalists. Is it so surprising to you that I have people I care about? Really, you treat me like I'm a monster or something. Remember when we used to fight on the same side, back when I was a member of the _NWA?_ Those were the days..."

"...Those days are long gone. Take care of yourself, Alex. I don't think we're going to run into each other again. And if we do, I doubt it will be as friends," The rapper ignored his comment and brushed past him. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled, summoning the spirit of the high eagle _Freedom-Song_ to his aid. Ice Cube then mounted atop this avian hellbeast and took flight into the vast expanse of the Americaverse.

After the group's drunken festivities had ended, Father Neutron rose to his feet and gathered his belongings. He placed his bible in the interior pocket of his priestly robes and bowed his head in thanks.

"Well, it's been one hell of a good time, but I guess I better roll. I've got places to see, souls to save. I hope we'll meet again one of these days. It's been... fun. Keep your pimp hand strong and your ho's working long, brothas!" Jimmy Neutron laughed.

"The hell are you talking about, Mr. Priest? You're one of us now, aren't you?" Donald Trump questioned. Sonic set down his bong and nodded in agreement, "As far as I'm concerned, you're already part of this hood. What you did fighting Adolf Hitler took some serious balls. Not many people are able to impress me like that. You gonna hop in your Cadillac and come with us willingly, or will we have to drag your ass with us?"

Tears of joy began to well up in Jimmy's eyes as he hearkened upon their offer. Overcome with emotion, the warrior priest fell to his knees and began to blubber incoherently, _"Y-Y-You guys... you r-really mean it? You really w-want me to come with you?"_

Jimmy Neutron then thought back to the final moments of _Hugh Neutron,_ the man who helped him escape from prison and convinced him to accept Jesus Christ as his lord and savior.

* * *

"H-Hugh-san! We can't stay here, the guards are coming back! Those Commies will shoot us on sight if we get caught! We have to escape! Come on, let me help you stand!" Jimmy urged in a panicked voice. While trying to rouse him from his resting place in the alley, he accidentally tore open Hugh's sweater vest and unraveled the bloody gauze tied around his stomach. The anime-haired lad then shook with horror at the sight of the festering bullet wounds that littered his entire chest.

"Wha... what's this? How did you get wounded so badly? This infection is terrible... you could die!" He wailed. Jimmy's face then turned a deathly pale as he thought back to the time they were briefly separated during their escape from this Communist prison planetoid.

He had thought nothing of the barrage of gunshots he heard in the distance at the time. He had just assumed the sounds were from another firing squad executing a group of American inmates on Warden Fidel Castro's orders. Such was a daily occurrence in this wretched place. Never once did he stop to think that Hugh could have possibly been caught in the crossfire.

"Dammit! Stop bleeding, stop bleeding! Get better! God... you got shot trying to buy time for me to get away, didn't you? Fuck!" Jimmy Neutron swore, desperately tried to stifle the flow of blood gushing out of his torso with his bare hands. He gave up trying after several failed attempts and fell onto his back, feeling utterly helpless.

Hugh's breathing grew increasingly labored as he raised his head and tried to speak. He rasped in a low voice, "S-Sorry for not telling you sooner, Jimbo. If we had slowed down to patch me up, we'd have been caught already. For your sake, we had to keep going. Jimbo... I want you to escape alone, alright? It's already too late for me. You need to run before the guards get here and kill us both!"

Jimmy turned his head to the electric fence behind him, the last hurdle he would have to cross before he could reach the outside world. Instead of pursuing his freedom, he grabbed Hugh's trembling hands and remained by his side.

"...I can't just run and leave you here. You're the one who gave me a second chance at life! I'd never be able to carry on knowing you died so I could survive!" Jimmy ululated.

"Get a hold of yourself, Jimbo!" Hugh Neutron took Jimmy by the shoulders and pinned him against the prison's stone floor. "Our heavenly father gave up his life on the cross so that even someone like you, a former pimp and mass murderer, could have his sins forgiven. I didn't help you see the light just so you would waste your life like this. I've had a good run, but your story is just beginning. That's why you've got to leave me here and escape! You have to live no matter how bad it hurts, you hear me? Don't waste this second chance that God gave you by dying in this miserable place!" He snapped, desperately trying to save his sworn brother's life.

Jimmy Neutron made his escape over the fence just seconds before the Communist gunmen returned with reinforcements. Despite the situation, Hugh appeared to be at total peace with himself and the world around him. He slowly lifted his chin to take one final look at Jimmy's face in the distance.

Just before the warden put a bullet in the back of Hugh Neutron's head, he smiled and spoke in a soft, barely audible voice, _"Jim, Jimmy, James, Jimbo, son... take care of yourself, kiddo. Find yourself some people that you can_ _ _proudly_ call your homies and survive. Don't ever give up!" _

When Jimmy was first sentenced to life in prison on the planet Stalingrad III, he was sure that he was going to die in this forsaken place. Jimmy Neutron had certainly never thought that he would receive the love of Christ and be reborn by coming here. When he was at his lowest, Reverend Hugh Neutron saved Jimmy from his wicked, whore-mongering ways and convinced him to repent. Jimmy's respect for Hugh was so great that he even took his last name despite having no real relation to him.

* * *

"Homies... I finally found my homies like Hugh-san said I would! I... I accept! I want to defeat the Communists too! Please let me join you on your journey!" Jimmy Neutron sniveled. He suddenly fell upon his face, fully committing himself to the cause of this fearless defender of America. Donald Trump threw his designer scarf over his shoulder and lightly chuckled at his homoerotic display.

Sonic hoisted up his leather guitar case and grinned, "Welcome aboard. Just make sure not to get in my way, or I'll have to cut you in half with my dick. Got it? Since we're some kind of gay-ass squad now, I guess we need a name for ourselves. The kind that'll make Commies shit themselves just from hearing it. Got any ideas? I'm partial to 'The Niggerslayers' myself."

Alex Jones quietly sneaked back to the group's camp while they were busy trying to dissuade the hedgehog from his terrible choice of names. After taking a swig from his canteen of filtered water, he added his own voice to the commotion, "What do you think about naming us after Abe Lincoln's old group, little cuz? Why don't we call ourselves the _**Neo Biker Brethren**?"_

"...The Neo Biker Brethren?" Sonic muttered under his breath, admiring how well the name rolled off of his tongue. He smirked, "Heh, that ain't half bad. It's sure as hell better than Trump's idea, at least. All in favor?"

"Mmm, now that name brings me back. Doesn't it make you feel nostalgic, too... _pops?"_ An unfamiliar voice called out from the distance. All of the burly Americans instinctively readied their weapons and turned their fuckferocious gazes towards the intruder.

A shadowy figure clad in a blood stained basketball jersey stared down upon them from a cliff that overlooked the horizon, giving him a full view of their camp and the smoking battlefield just outside of it. The man then jumped down from his vantage point and landed inches away from Sonic's face. His movements were like that of an assassin, allowing him to tread silently on top of the sand without leaving behind a single footprint in his wake.

For Sonic, it wasn't at all out of the question to suspect that he had been lurking in the shadows the entire time, existing while also being unseen, unheard, and unfelt. Even a warrior as keen and observant as Adolf Hitler failed to notice his presence, a seemingly impossible feat. But yet he had somehow managed to pull it off.

Jimmy Neutron shuddered with fear and slowly backed away from the stranger. "Yo, this guy looks like trouble! Do you recognize him, boss?" He asked.

Sonic nodded his head nervously, clearly taken aback by the enemy's sudden appearance, "You could say that. We met only once during Americageddon, but I'd never forget that face. He's a human weapon created by Karl Marx's old regime using the DNA of an old ally of mine. That said, we're anything but comrades. He nearly killed me the last time we met. His name is... _Charles Darkley!"_


	20. Sir Charles and the Dark Phoenix Suns

**STARTING TODAY, I PLAN TO DEVOTE MY LIFE TO WRITING EROTIC "3-2-1 PENGUINS" FANFICTION. I HOPE THAT YOU WILL FIND THE SEXUAL ESCAPADES OF ZIDGEL, MIDGEL, FIDGEL, AND KEVIN AS AROUSING AS I DO!**

 _The Neo Biker Brethren have just come face to face with Charles Darkley, an enigmatic figure from Sonic the Hedgehog's past… has this baller of darkness returned to finish what he started, or does he have another goal in mind?_

* * *

"...Charles Darkley," Donald Trump curtly acknowledged the presence of the Communist baller standing before them. Considering the obvious enmity between Sonic and Sir Charles, he thought it best not to mention that he had worked together with him before on several occasions.

"Donald Trump," Darkley greeted him equally coldly.

Instead of acknowledging his enemy, Sonic merely shot up his middle finger and walked off in the opposite direction. Trump threw back his head and guffawed at the hedgehog's audacity. Desperate to fit in, Jimmy Neutron also flipped the man off despite not actually knowing him.

"Wh-What are you doing? Get back here! We haven't seen each other in over six years, and you won't even say a word to me? Don't you want to know why I'm here? You should be horrified by my presence! B-Baka! What an asshole!" Charles Darkley snapped at Sonic, looking extremely flustered.

Their reunion clearly hadn't gone as he had planned. Unlike the original Charles Barkley, his evil clone was an incredibly vain, controlling individual who was prone to fits of genocidal rage whenever things didn't go his way. Sensing his building aura of bloodlust, the patriotic hedgehog decided to change tactics and play along for the moment. Taking on Darkley right now would be tantamount to suicide with the injuries he had sustained in his previous fight.

"Alright, I'll bite. If you wanted to kill me, you obviously would have made your move already. What the hell do you want, Darkley?" Sonic turned face and asked. Steve Buscemi begins to develop shapely breasts after eating too much soy.

"Finally going to listen to ol' Charles, huh?" The sportsman cracked a smug grin and leaned back onto Jimmy Neutron's purple Cadillac. He spun his Spalding basketball on the tip of his middle finger and chuckled, "You could say I have something of a business proposition for you. Fate would have it that we're now fighting for the same cause, old friend. My starship's parked in orbit, let's continue our discussion there. You never know who might be listening in a place like this…"

"And why would we listen to what a twisted Commie like you has to say? I don't trust this guy, little cuz. It's just another Globalist trick!" Alex Jones warned Sonic.

Sir Charles shrugged, "Fine, don't listen if you want. But I think you'll find that your goals and mine are more similar than you think. I've got a plan to assassinate Larry the Cable Guy, and I want you four chuckle-fuckers to help me!"

Left with no other choice but to hear him out, the pious conclave of space bikers mounted atop their choppers and followed Charles Darkley into the planet's exosphere. They soon came upon a spherical vessel hidden behind an asteroid belt that closely resembled a giant, weaponized basketball. In the glory days of the Americaverse, the ancient African astronauts of the NBA would roam the galaxy in primitive crafts such as this. The Marxist clone's menacing B-Ball warship was impressive to behold, but Sonic was shocked by the sight for a different reason.

"A basketball, huh? If I remember correctly, Barkley used to be a professional basketball player before he was killed in battle. Could it mean that his clone still shares the memories of your dead companion?" Trump pondered under his breath. Sonic nodded his head in agreement.

The Communist-Hunter lowered his gaze and spoke in a hushed voice, quiet enough for Darkley not to overhear, "That's the whole reason why I've been going along with this shit. He claims that he's got nothing in common with his past self, but I don't buy that for a second. I want to believe that the same old Barkley I knew is still there deep down inside of him. I'm thinking maybe that's what Method Woman's prophecy from before meant. If there's even a small chance that I can somehow return him to how he used to be, I'd be willing to do damn near anything. Heh, I bet that sounds gay as hell, doesn't it?"

"Well, you said it, not me. But it is pretty gay," Donald Trump snickered. Sonic took the time to think back to his fateful encounter with Charles Darkley during Americageddon, an event which still haunted him to this day.

* * *

 _Sonic collapsed to the ground, gagging on the blood spurting down his chin and staining his stylish motorcycle jacket. With a merciless slam dunk, Charles Darkley impaled Sonic the Hedgehog through his torso with his signature basketball._

 _The daemonic baller fell upon one knee and used his swart fingers to lift Sonic's chin to meet his fiery gaze. He spoke in an emotionless tone of voice, "I came here to find answers, Sonic. Your death is nothing personal. I just wanted to know that, after everything I've done to distance myself from my past, if my heart would be shaken by you. By the sentimentality carried over from my previous life. Now, I know the answer. I am finally free of you, Sonic the Hedgehog!"_

* * *

The musclebound hedgehog shuddered at the thought. Not only had he been betrayed by one of his greatest friends that night, but Richard Nixon also died soon after when he sacrificed himself to heal his mortal injuries. But strangely enough, Sonic still couldn't bring himself to despise the Communist standing right in front of him despite all he had done. Jimmy Neutron begins leaving Chick tracts everywhere he goes.

The Americans soon arrived at the docking bay of their host's craft and dismounted from their metallic steeds. Alex Jones raised an eyebrow as he noticed that Darkley already appeared pale and out of breath from their brief ride over.

Noticing his suspicious gaze, Sir Charles quickly guzzled a bottle of orange Gatorade™ and his coloring returned to normal. He turned his head away, looking somewhat embarrassed, "You saw that, huh? The Commies did a shit job of cloning me, so I've gotta consume large amounts of electrolytes every few hours or my body will start to shut down. That's why I need to drink Gatorade every few minutes. You'd better not mention this shit to anyone else, got it? 'Cause I'd have to kill you if you did."

While leading the musclebound patriots to his ship's control room, Darkley explained what had happened to him after the events of Americageddon and how he turned on his Marxist creators. However, Sonic was too busy scribbling swastikas on the walls to pay any attention.

"...Don't misunderstand my motives, Sonic. I'm still fully devoted to the cause of socialism. But what I couldn't stand were those who wanted to take advantage of my strength. That's why I killed my creators and went rogue. It's true that Marx made me into a monster, but I don't mind. Now I want to see just how much of a monster I really am. I want to be the one that rules the Communist empire, and I'll kill anyone who stands in my way! If you help me, you know that we'll one day be sworn enemies, right?" Darkley asked with a sly grin. The hedgehog ignored his comment and continued etching vulgarities on all of the bathroom stalls with his pocket knife.

"So that's why you want to destroy the Backstreet Boys. Everyone knows that Larry the Cable Guy is Fidel Castro's chief enforcer. With him gone, you could easily assassinate Castro and claim his title as the strongest of the Communist Underlords. Then it would only be a matter of time before you conquered the entire Americaverse like Hitler once did. I have to admit that it's an arousingly murderous strategy!" Donald Trump praised.

Sonic furrowed his brow and groaned, "I don't care about your motives, but I do want to know one thing. How exactly are we going to kill him? It took almost everything I had to slay the fuck out of Brendan Fraser, and he's not even half as gangsta. That nigga didn't even go hard in the motherfuckin' paint."

"It's all daijoubu! Don't worry about it, pops. I've got a plan to separate him from his army so that you and I can finish him off easily. He won't stand a chance. Besides, it's not like we're going to do this operation without help. I've got my own little squad, you see. We call ourselves... the _Dark Phoenix Suns!"_ Charles Darkley threw up his hands and cackled with twisted glee. The Neo Biker Brethren stepped into the ship's bridge and were greeted by a round table of the baller's four equally bloodthirsty subordinates.

 **CHARLES DARKLEY - The Round Mound of Rebound From Hell**

Charles first directed the group's gaze to a duo of trench coat-clad assassins hunkered down in the shadows. They dressed in a highly similar fashion, with both wearing sunglasses despite being indoors and sharing the same ratty, pale white dreadlocks.

"Those two over there are _Drake_ and _Josh._ They both used to be torturers for a certain regime in the eastern galaxy, but were kicked out because their methods were so sadistic that even the Commies were disgusted. I later found them orchestrating bombings on government facilities to get revenge. They're just the kind of guys I can respect! They almost never say anything, so there's no telling what's going on in the sick heads of those ornery fucklords," Darkley formally introduced the pair.

Drake scrutinized Sonic and his partners as they took their seats, attempting to assess just how powerful they were. "They are strong?" Josh asked in a dull, emotionless voice. Even in the rare moments where they did communicate, the identical pair were prone to speaking in abruptly concise, terse statements. And they certainly never revealed their true feelings to others.

Drake nodded, "Very. But lack cohesion. No match for us. We move as one."

 **DRAKE AND JOSH - The Beheader Siblings**

"Next up is Wendy, that fly ass bitch on the right over there. She used to be one of the McDemons, but she was later exiled to the mortal plane after a failed attempt to kill Ronald McDonald and usurp his throne 1,488 yahrens ago. Don't let her innocent appearance fool you; she's probably the biggest sadist here. I wouldn't let her anywhere near my genitals if I were you. She's also a master of waging chemical warfare, so make sure to steer clear whenever she's really in the mood to wreck shit up," He continued.

The bikers' reverend started to nervously sweat like a bitch in heat as he watched the voluptuous redhead sink her teeth into a cheeseburger. _"D-D-Damn, that ass is extra thick..."_ Jimmy Neutron stuttered, his gaze glued firmly to Wendy's posterior.

Jimmy stumbled backwards and nearly lost consciousness when she turned her head and blew him a kiss. "Lord have mercy! What a lewd ho!" He shrieked, more aroused than ever.

 **WENDY - Fast Food Succubus and Sworn Enemy of the McDemons**

"Last up is _Snow Miser,_ another failed experiment of the Harlem Globetrotters that joined me during my rebellion against them. His augmentations gave him the ability to freeze things at will, but they also fucked him up in the head. He's got some strange obsession with killing his estranged comrade, Heat Miser, and freezing everything in sight. He's also extremely racist. Ain't that right, jackass?" Darkley asked his associate jokingly.

Snow Miser threw his hat and cane into the air and danced around the top of the table as a greeting. Icicles shot out from his fingertips as he twirled, singing one of his famous jaunty showtunes, "I'm Mr. White Christmas, I'm Mr. Snow! I'm Mr. Nigger Lyncher, I'm Mr. Day of the Rope! Friends call me Snow Miser. What ever I touch turns to snow in my clutch! Haha, I'm too much!"

 **SNOW MISER - Class A War Criminal**

"So, whaddya say, pops? Will you join my cause and help us destroy the Backstreet Boys once and for all? You can either join me and get your revenge for what they did to your family, or you can ignore me and go directly to save the kid you told me about. You can't choose both. Are you willing to join hands with one of your worst enemies just for the sake of vengeance?" Charles Darkley proposed with a sly grin. Sonic the Hedgehog held his ground, still unsure of what choice to make.

Eventually, he relented and shook Darkley's outstretched hand. Sonic sighed, "I'm sorry, Nixon. You're just going to have to stay put for a little while longer. If I can't defeat the Backstreet Boys now, American may never truly be safe. I can't let Garfield and the rest of those pinko bastards walk free any longer. I choose... _revenge!"_


	21. Mark Zuckerberg's World (Pt 1)

**SUGGESTED LISTENING: "BLOW DEM HOES UP" BY THE TERRORISTS**

 _Sonic the Hedgehog has just formed an unprecedented alliance with Charles Darkley to defeat the Backstreet Boys. But will their combined strength be enough to take down Larry the Cable Guy?_

* * *

All of the Neo Biker Brethren and their allies gathered around as Darkley spread a large piece of parchment paper across the table that detailed his strategy for the impending battle. He smirked as he brought his fist down upon it, "Listen up, bitches! I call this **'Charles Darkley's Baadasssss Plan'** and it's going to lead our sorry asses to victory. If you want this to work, you'd best shut up and listen. There's no way our alliance will lose to the Cable Guy if we follow my brilliant strategy!"

"I don't need your gay plan, Darkley. I already have my own. I'm gonna chop Larry the Cable Guy in half with my dick. You guys can just sit back and watch," Sonic the Hedgehog stated matter-of-factly.

Sir Charles was evidently enraged by his words. He growled, "That's not a real plan, you dipshit! Besides, Larry's too strong and fast for something that simple to work. We'd at least need to blow off his kneecaps or spike his Mountain Dew™ with laxatives first. Speaking in terms of numerical battle power or _Sentō Ryoku,_ you and I are both a 500 and your average Commie is around a 10. On the other hand, I'd say Larry easily scores a 5,000. He's a monster. I already fought him once and nearly lost my life in the process. Do you see now why I needed your team's help for this, pops?"

Charles Darkley lifted up his sports jersey to reveal the grisly wounds he had received during his last battle with the Communist autarch. Sonic couldn't help but notice that he also had a massive brand seared onto his back in the shape of a hammer and sickle. Donald Trump won't stop fondling his magical glowing orb.

The hedgehog had seen many similar marks and tramp stamps before in his years of butchering socialists with his dick. Sonic himself had the words "insert coin in slot" tattooed slightly above his ass crack, but Darkley's mark was one of a completely different meaning. Marxist lords would often use a branding iron to sear this symbol onto slaves and Communist half-breeds as a mark of shame, forever reminding them of their place as the lowest caste in their sinful society.

Those bearing the mark were rarely given common decency by their superiors and often made up the front line infantry on the battlefield. Even those that had risen to higher positions in their empire were seen as no more than tools to be used and sacrificed if needed to suppress the American forces.

Sonic couldn't help wonder what horrible torture Darkley went through to pervert him into the twisted character he was today, especially if his theory was correct and he was once no different than the innocent Charles Barkley he knew long ago. He shuddered at the implication.

The American hedgehog sighed, "Alright, whatever. We'll go with your lame plan. Although mine was metal as fuck and would have been friggin' sweet. So, how are we going to track down those Commies? They could be anywhere in the patriotverse right about now. And I'm willing to bet that they're mad as hell that I killed their guy yesterday."

"The Backstreet Boys aren't the type to let crimes against their family go unpunished. You can bet that they'll want revenge. They used to have a fifth heavenly king by the name of _Tony Hawk,_ but I beheaded him about a year ago for the hell of it. They were so pissed that they eliminated half of my team in retaliation, leaving us with only five members. But luckily for us, we already know exactly where Larry's going to be. Take a look at this!" Charles commented and directed his finger to a monitor mounted over their heads. He pressed a hidden switch under the arm of his chair and the screen lit up, showing them a holographic star map of Americaverse.

He circled his finger around one of the asteroid clusters. He continued, "See that, pops? They call it _Facebank._ It's a secure holding facility where the richest and baddest Marxists store the wealth and priceless valuables that they've taken during their conquests. The security there makes Fort Knox look like a goddamn house of cards. Of course, to find and kill the Cable Guy, we need to break in. Easy enough, right?"

"Heh, you little cuzzes sure do have some huge balls! That place is owned and operated by _Mark Zuckerberg._ They say that he controls over half of the universe's wealth and has connections to every Commie Underlord there is. He's not the kind of person that any sane man would try to piss off. Zuckerberg's also a shapeshifting reptilian from another dimension. So, what's his connection with the BSB?" Alex Jones inquired whilst sipping from his oversized beaker of Zippy Water.

Charles Darkley seemed particularly thrilled that someone among Sonic's group was actually paying attention to him. Sonic himself was too busy drawing scalies with oversized breasts, Jimmy Neutron continued to flip through his bible without listening, and Trump kept trying to light the entire ship on fire for no reason.

Darkley smashed his fist on the table and cracked a toothy grin, "Finally, a good question! Underlord Fidel Castro owns a vault there where he's hiding something extremely valuable. My inside source seems to think it's some kind of advanced doomsday weapon. Luckily for us, Castro is so paranoid that he's only allowing Larry himself to fetch it for him from storage. We've got the clear advantage since his men aren't there to guard him. My plan is to break into the bank, steal the mystery weapon before he can reach it, and then kill the Cable Guy on our way out. With him gone and the weapon in my possession, the Communist empire is as good as mine!"

Sir Charles went on to show the digital schematics for the strongrooms inside and his plan to sneak past Mark Zuckerberg's guards undetected. "So this is a heist in addition to an assassination, huh? Now you've got my attention. No matter what's inside that vault, I sure as hell ain't gonna let those red bastards get their hands on it. So, when do we start?" Sonic cast aside his crudely drawn erotica and asked.

The alliance's meeting was cut short as Darkley's ship began to shake violently. As they lowered themselves deeper into the planet's atmosphere, Mark Zuckerberg's 1,488 unmanned defense drones rose from the cloud cover and immediately converged to open fire on them. Jimmy shook with horror as all of the metal paneling was blown off of the ship's starboard side, sending everything not nailed down flying into the open air.

"...Right now. Looks like we arrived ahead of schedule. Alright pops, I'll leave the opening distraction to you. If you're man enough, survive this crash and meet back up with us on the inside! _Charles Darkley's Baadasssss Plan begins now!"_ Charles Darkley shouted over the turbulence and blaring alarms. He then donned his parachute and casually waved goodbye to the Neo Biker Brethren, unfazed by the burning vessel.

"You never mentioned this was the distraction! Darkley, you motherfucking baka!" Before Sonic could protest further, the members of the Dark Phoenix Suns leapt out of the breach in the hull and skydived into the clouds below. Sonic unsheathed his guitar and dug it into the steel floor to hold himself steady as all of the vessel's cargo, including their Harley Davidson™ motorcycles, blew past him and were strewn about in the sky.

Trump bolted to the cockpit in search of a way to change the ship's current heading. "Dammit!" He swore, finding that all of the wiring for the controls had already been cut.

Darkley had clearly prepared for every possible contingency. There was nothing to do now but leave their fate up to George Washington and brace themselves for the inevitable crash right into the front door of Zuckerberg's bank.

* * *

"M-Master Zuckerberg? Fidel Castro just contacted us to confirm that his representatives are on the way. Are you ready to greet them, sir?" The voice of an Anne Frank-type android asked in a cautious voice.

Almost all of the artificial beings from her series had been melted down after the Communist Wars for scrap, making them a very rare sight to see. Most of the remainder had gone rogue and were unaccounted for, such as the Anne Frank that Sonic had a one-night stand with, but a select few were purchased and owned by the extremely affluent as their personal servants. This Anne Frank fell into the latter category.

She shivered in the cool air as she stepped inside her master's chamber. The subzero climate Zuckerberg preferred was inhospitable even for a machine, and the impractically skimpy outfit that he dressed her in did little to shield her from the cold. Steve Buscemi decides to convert to Christianity after watching every episode of Veggie Tales in a row.

Zuckerberg's mammon was absurdly vast. His room was trimmed from top to bottom with solid gold and further covered in a layer of frost and icicles from the cold. Priceless treasures from long dead civilizations and mountains of shekels were stacked to the ceiling, and in the center of the room laid a circular pool filled to the brim with a thick, pulpy, white liquid. A head suddenly emerged from the center of the pool and gasped for air.

Mark Zuckerberg slowly emerged from the tub of alien fluid, completely unclothed save for the opaque white ooze trickling down his body and loins. He directed his inhumanly large, buglike eyes in his servant's direction and spoke in a nasally, whining hiss of a voice, _"Nyeeeeeeh!_ Didn't I tell you not to disturb me while I'm bathing in my sweet, sweet _Soylent?_ Why should I care about what those filthy humans are doing? I bet I'll catch their human diseases just by being near them. Only in the freezing cold am I safe from their germs! They're unclean, so unclean!"

Zuckerberg thoroughly disinfected himself of the perceived contaminants of the outside world before shuffling towards his freezer. He threw open the door, revealing hundreds of bottles of Soylent and all other manner of soy products. He had abandoned all solid foods years ago in favor of a diet composed entirely of liquid slop. Even the thought of ingesting human food made him want to gag.

However, he was not just a mere fanatic of Soylent. Mark Zuckerberg was born in the soy and sculpted by it. He truly understood soy and soy likewise understood him. Some say that he would go off for weeks at a time to bask in the soy fields, consorting with the spirits of the beans and learning their arcane secrets. The dark knowledge he gained is allegedly what helped him create his vast empire of technology. It was not at all an understatement to say that Zuckerberg was more soy than man.

Anne stepped forward and draped her master's robe over his body as he gurgled on his Soylent meal replacements. She bowed her head and continued, "We've also received word that a small group of intruders have broken past the first security gate and are now working their way deeper inside the bank. Should we take the necessary security measures? If something goes wrong and the Communists' visiting representatives are killed, Fidel Castro may pull our funding."

"Nyeh! Who cares? Pretty soon, I won't even need Fidel Castro and his ilk. I'm going to turn the entire Americaverse into a virtual reality hellscape where everyone will worship me as their digital god! Does that idiot Cable Guy think that weapon that was procured from the ashes of Wolfschanze will really turn the tide in this war? Ha, what a fool! The soy has already told me today's outcome. The impending battle that will take place here will result in the downfall of both the Americans and the Backstreet Boys. And once they've killed each other off, I'll make my move. _The Zucc will eternally reign supreme!"_ The elite ZOG lord cackled with sadistic glee.


	22. Mark Zuckerberg's World (Pt 2)

**SONIC'S HOMEWORLD MOBIUS IS FLAT JUST LIKE THE EARTH IS. CHECKMATE, SPHERECUCKS!  
**

 _Sonic the Hedgehog and Charles Darkley have undertaken a daring plot to steal a Communist doomsday weapon and assassinate Larry the Cable Guy… but is Darkley's plan as foolproof as it seems? And is there still hope for Sir Charles to regain his original personality?_

* * *

 _"While the storm clouds gather far across the sea, let us swear allegiance to a land that's free…"_

The year is 2006. The United States of America has become a harsh, inhospitable place for the noble people that ruled over it many years ago.

Negotiating the once quiet countryside was a hellish nightmare these days. There was nowhere an American could be safe whether traveling on foot, motorcycle, or bald eagle. Wherever you were, war would inevitably find you. There was no escaping it. _Americageddon_ had already begun.

Seeing innocent Americans be slaughtered in the streets was now a common occurrence. All law and order among the socialist race had broken down after Karl Marx's death, leaving them free to plunder and rape as they pleased. Their savagery had grown to such a point where Communist snipers had taken up positions in local high-rises and had made a sport of targeting American civilians just to pass the time.

Bullets and explosions tended to greet you no matter where you hid. The few authorities that remained were utterly powerless to stop their carnage. However, there were still a few men brave enough to try and make a difference in this hellish world once known as America.

"C'mon, lads! The coast is clear. Hurry before they come back!" Garfield spoke in a hushed voice. He darted through the desolate streets of Neo Milwaukee with a group of half-starved American survivors following close behind. After the deaths of his comrades in the war, this was Garfield's way of fighting back against his Communist oppressors. Steve Buscemi is extremely insecure about being a manlet.

Garfield never had the strength nor the courage to single-handedly mount a rebellion against the Communists like Sonic or Honest Abe once did. He hated himself for his weakness, but he couldn't just sit idly by and do nothing. The portly feline took it upon himself to deliver as many Americans as possible to safety and help them escape from this Marxist-occupied wasteland. But above all else, his mission is what helped keep him sane.

At times like these, Garfield tended to think back to better days spent amongst his old crew. The Biker Brethren were a pious group of gentlemanly mystagogues that showed no fear to their enemies and dispatched every Marxist caliphate in sight with ease. And with Abe Lincoln as their leader, there was no enemy too strong for them to overcome.

But that was all before Adam Sandler attacked. Their lofty dream for peace was crushed on that fateful night, and now Garfield found himself barely able to scrape by. This once fearless man had lost his resolve to fight and to live as freely as his patriotic brothers once had, reducing him to a hollow shell of his former self.

 _"Let us all be grateful for a land so fair, as we raise our voices in a solemn prayer…"_

The next few minutes seemed to transpire in an instant. All Garfield could hear was the loud thrumming of a socialist plasma cannon charging up from the distance and the horrible screaming that followed. A brilliant flash of light from the weapon's muzzle blinded him, leaving him unable to evade the impending attack. Before he knew it, he was on the ground and the backstreets of Milwaukee had fallen deathly silent.

The metal frames of the skyscrapers overhead leered over at him as if they were about to collapse at any moment, utterly immolated by the Communists' surprise attack. The stench of smoke and roasted flesh wafted through the air and made him gag. Tears then began to flood Garfield's face as he lifted his head and beheld the carnage surrounding him.

Much to his horror, Garfield was too late. All of the survivors he had sought to protect had been burned alive, mothers still clutching their children, not even a single soul left standing. Even Dr. Liz had been slain.

 _"No... NO NO NO! FUUUUCK!"_ Garfield abandoned his characteristic deadpan tone and wailed without restraint. Once again he had failed to protect the people he had fought side by side with. Just like during Americageddon, he was powerless to change his fate.

The wounded cat tried to heave himself to safety but found his legs unresponsive to his commands. He turned his head to survey the extent of his injuries, but quickly came to the realization that there was nothing left to survey. The entire lower half of his body had been completely blown away in the explosion, leaving only his torso behind.

 _"G-God, I r-really hate M-Mondays,"_ He stuttered in a hoarse voice, blood trickling down his orange beard as he spoke. Garfield struggled to keep himself awake as he clawed his way to shelter, knowing that losing consciousness would very likely mean his death. His strength soon failed him and he collapsed in the middle of the street in a puddle of his own blood, barely breathing.

 _"God bless America, land that I love, stand beside her and guide her…"_

The feline's ears perked as he heard the sound of someone singing in the distance. Thinking it to be a hallucination, he rested his head down on the pavement and awaited his fate. The voice gradually grew louder until the traveling minstrel came to stand directly over Garfield's battered body. Crazy Frog refuses to wear clothes not purchased from the Hot Topic.

Garfield's eyes slowly fluttered open and he was greeted by a man clad completely in white linen. His hair was long and flowing, and the sunrise silhouetted behind his head like a halo and reflected off his robes with an otherworldly glow. Given his angelic beauty, Garfield truly believed that a seraphim of the lord had arrived to carry his soul to the next life.

The cat smiled contently as the man lifted his mangled body from the rubble. "So this is it. This is how my story ends. All in all, I've lived a good life. I've made my share of mistakes, but I've tried to leave a legacy behind that Jon Arbuckle-sensei would be proud of. I guess the Americaverse just has no need for a man like me anymore, right?" He murmured under his breath. "Lyman, Michael Jordan, Abe Lincoln… wait for me! I'm coming to join you!"

"Fear not, my child. It is not yet the time for your tale to end. The way I see it, our lives are naught but stories. Do you want your story to end in this way, or do you wish to defy fate and write your own ending? I have the power to restore your body if that is what you desire. What say you, old friend?" The man asked in a soothing voice, speaking with a certain intimacy as if he had known him for hundreds of years.

Garfield's eyes opened wide from shock, "L-Larry the Cable Guy? There's no way... Abe Lincoln told me before that you had died in the war! How are you here?"

Larry the Cable Guy pressed his forehead against Garfield's own and lightly chuckled, "Not even death can stop me from coming to the aid of this beautiful, free country when it needs me the most. I have a dream, Garfield. A dream that this land can finally be free from the wicked influence of our enemy. I have a plan to save our country, but I can't do it alone. Will you join me, old friend? Will you defy the cruel fate you've been dealt and help me save the United States from damnation? It shan't be an easy task. We may even become monsters ourselves in the process. Do you have the resolve to follow me into Hell to save our world, Garfield-san?"

On that fateful night, Garfield pledged fealty to Larry the Cable Guy and became one of the founding members of the Backstreet Boys. Larry would later rebuild his body with cybernetic prostheses and help him to walk once more. Garfield's devotion to his savior was so great that he would slaughter dozens of his own race in the years to come just to ensure that his plan would come to fruition.

Little did he know that this path he had chosen to walk would eventually lead him to a duel to the death with Sonic the Hedgehog, the man who he had once considered to be his greatest friend. Their final confrontation is now about to begin...

 _"From the mountains, to the prairies, to the oceans white with foam. God bless America, my home, sweet home."_

* * *

"Jesus Christ, Sonic-kun. Why are you wearing Crocs with your trench coat?" Donald Trump asked, the disgust evident his voice. He crinkled his nose as he again surveyed his partner's horrific taste in clothing. Sonic the Hedgehog wore a pair of jorts, a black leather trench coat with a wife beater underneath, blue Crocs, fingerless mesh gloves, and had a gold chain with a bald eagle pendant draped around his neck.

"It's called having taste, dipshit. Now, excuse me while I go listen to some Drowning Pool," Sonic the Hedgehog snarled. He then put on his earbuds and began thrashing his head violently to nu metal. Meanwhile, Trump stepped out of the wreckage of Darkley's starship and went to search for clues as to where the rest of their group ended up.

Charles Darkley's craft smashed right into the entrance of the _Facebank_ just moments earlier and mowed down all of the automated sentries and guard towers blocking their path. And while Sonic and Trump had survived with only minor injuries, Alex Jones and Jimmy Neutron were blown out into the air prior to the crash and were now lost somewhere in the compound.

Donald pulled Sonic aside and shot him an irritated glare, "Take this seriously, Mr. Hedgehog! The Cable Guy is probably already here to retrieve the item. And if Alex-kun or Mr. Priest run into him, they're basically fucked. And that's assuming they actually landed on this floating structure and didn't fall to their deaths. They didn't fly so good…"

While Mark Zuckerberg owned the entire planet, only a small part of it was actually used for the purposes of his galactic technological empire. A solitary flying city hovering just above the clouds is where the Communist bank was located. The world below was a volcanic wasteland littered with fields of corpses from a horrific conflict that took place years ago, a desolate location barren of life.

"What, you worried about them or some gay shit? Don't worry about it, dicksleeve. Those whack-ass motherfuckers are strong enough to slay any Commie that comes their way. On another note, this world seems familiar somehow. I can't help but feel like I've been here before. This place ring any bells to you?" Sonic asked. Trump merely shook his head and pressed on deeper inside the building.

Sonic cringed as the smell of blood and decay assaulted his senses. Just as he turned around the corner of the entrance hallway, the hedgehog was greeted by one of the most foul scenes he had ever laid his reptilian eyes upon. Blood caked the floor and rows of intestines were draped from the ceiling. Hundreds of dead bodies were sprawled out on the ground, all lacking their skin and genitals.

Their flesh was crumpled up in the corner of the room like potato peelings and their loins were fashioned into a crude statuette of severed dicks built in the shape of a dinosaur. In other words, a "Dongasaur." Even Donald Trump, a man often described as genocidal and utterly devoid of remorse, was repulsed by the sight.

Both Sonic and Trump reeled back in shock as Charles Darkley leapt out of a pile of entrails and landed right in front of them. The red-eyed, whore-mongering, blood-soaked NBA man-demon barely even registered as human at first. He was more like a wild animal or a sasquatch, a mad beast ready to sink his teeth into anyone standing in his way. Sonic the Hedgehog will only date a woman if he can see her 23andMe results beforehand.

"Yo, pops! Congrats on surviving the distraction. You're tougher than I gave you credit for. I hope you don't mind that I slayed the fuck out of these guards without you. I got bored waiting for you salubrious motherfuckers to show up. But man, you should've been there! Their screams were hilarious! Shit was dope," Darkley stated casually, not showing even the slightest hint of pity for his butchered enemies.

He took notice of the look of disappointment spread across Sonic's face. Darkley rolled his eyes and shrugged, "Why the long face, pops? Don't pretend that you're any better. You have no right to act all high and mighty when you're personally responsible for the deaths of millions. So what if I enjoy killing people a little more than most? All it would take is one real shitty day for you to become a vicious beast just like me. In fact, you _have_ become a mindless beast before, haven't you? Back during Americageddon, I mean. We're exactly the same!"

Donald Trump had to physically restrain his partner to prevent him from lunging at Darkley with his dick unsheathed. In Sonic's eyes, Darkley had completely crossed the line by taunting him over the massacre of his friends. He growled, "Fuck you. I'm American, the real deal, right down to the fuckin' marrow of my bones. Don't lump me together with the rest of you faggot-ass Commies. _GO TO HELL!"_

"Still think he can be redeemed, Sonic-kun?" Trump asked, sounding unconvinced. Sonic ignored the question and stormed off in the opposite direction. Likewise, Darkley, now looking incredibly flustered, turned his back to him to immaturely pout in the corner of the room.

Trump held his hand to his face and groaned, "Goddammit. I'm really starting to regret not killing these baka gaijins when I had the chance..."

Elsewhere, Mark Zuckerberg lounged in his office chair with 1,488 used bottles of Soylent piled at his feet.

"Nyeh! Good job, team! Or that's what I _would_ say if you guys didn't get your asses handed to you. Why the hell haven't you killed those filthy, germ-ridden human intruders? They're destroying the reputation of my Facebook empire! What do I even pay you for?" The Zucc screeched from behind a thick sheet of glass that shielded him from the outside air.

His Anne Frank servant android proceeded to spoon feed him large amounts of Okara to help ease his nerves. Zuckerberg's chief guard, _Carlton Banks,_ seemed none too concerned with the recent break-in of Americans or his employer's deranged ranting. He merely reclined in his chair and took another drag of his blunt.

"Pig's arse, you fockin' plodder! Rack off already, drongo. Those blokes won't get one over on us again. Blood'll be flowing like the Queensland floods by the time I'm done with those bogan cunts. Piece of piss, mate!" Carlton spat in his native Australian accent. Donald Trump is disgusted by Sonic's terrible taste in Shounen anime.

Just as he stood and started for the exit, the door was thrown open by none other than Larry the Cable Guy. Carlton dropped his brave act and shuddered with primal fear as the gigantic man shoved past him and swaggered to the middle of the room to greet his client.

The massive divide between their strength instantly became clear the second their eyes met. If he felt like it, Larry could have crushed Carlton like a bug without exerting even a tenth of his full power. Never in his entire life had he ever felt so inadequate next to another man. Not even Uncle Phil, the martial arts instructor of both himself and Will Smith, had made him feel so utterly outclassed.

Unable to cope with the feeling of dread that accompanied the Cable Guy wherever he went, Carlton did the technicolor yawn and passed out on the floor. Such was a typical reaction to those unadjusted to dealing with exceptionally powerful Commies. Some lesser men had even died just from seeing Larry exercise his full power.

"Nyeh! Finally, someone competent enough to deal with this task and kill those damned intruders. But wait, who are the others with you? Fidel Castro said you disgusting meatba- I mean, valued guests were coming alone. You don't get to bring friends!" Zuckerberg loudly voiced his opinions. He strangely lacked any ability to control the volume of his voice and was prone to screaming everything he said, and this time was no exception.

"Forgive me for the obfuscation, Mark Zuckerberg-san. The false report that I would be coming alone was necessary to lure the insurgents out of hiding so that we could crush with them all using our full military strength. I had my doubts whether such a simple strategy would work, but it appears they were unfounded. Rest assured that we will do everything in our power to annihilate them in a timely manner. This place will be the Americans' tomb," Larry the Cable Guy spoke in a low, monotone voice. He then stood and raised his jeweled gauntlet skywards to rally the members of the Backstreet Boys to battle.

Garfield bowed his head out of respect towards his master and departed with his order of Heavenly Kings in tow. "Forgive me for my previous weakness, Larry-san. This time, I shall not falter. Sonic the Hedgehog is going to die by my hands! I won't fail you again!" He muttered under his breath, determined not to let his personal feelings get in the way of his duty.

Steve Buscemi, Crazy Frog, and Carl Brutananadilewski, the current members of the Backstreet Boys following Brendan Fraser's death, all cheered at their commander's unwavering resolve and joined him as he prepared to make his final stand. "And one more thing. You may want to have your cleaning crew on standby," Larry mentioned as he turned to join his men.

"Nyeh? And why's that?" Zuckerberg asked.

The Cable Guy lowered his head and chuckled, "I'll spare you the details, but my men are known to be quite brutal once the fighting starts. It might be a massacre out there. Don't be surprised if their corpses aren't even recognizable as human by the time that Garfield gets done with them. Not even I know what that man is capable of when he goes all out. How exciting!"


	23. Extra: Complete Americaverse Timeline

**CURRENTLY SEARCHING FOR A NEW GIRLFRIEND. IDEAL WEIGHT IS BETWEEN 250/275 POUNDS. MUST ALSO BE INTERESTED IN "GAINING." PLEASE CONTACT ME IF YOU ARE INTERESTED!**

* * *

 **First Age of the Americaverse (Events Before the Communist Wars)**

\- The omniverse is created by several transcendental beings of unknown origin. Although their true names are unknown, future generations would refer to them as "Globalists."

\- George Washington, a being made of pure patriotism and freedom, comes into being after the Globalists depart from existence. He takes on the role of the Americaverse's steward and uses his godlike powers to watch over and guide the American race.

\- Washington copulates with Lady Liberty herself for seven hundred and seventy-seven days and nights. She gives birth to the Founding Fathers, seven lesser deities destined to protect the United States.

\- Washington's heirs go on to create living beings of their own besides the Americans to populate the patriotverse. Biggie Smalls creates Wu-Tang Prime and its inhabitants, Alexander Hamilton creates the Juggalos, Shaquille O'Neal creates the Saiyans, and Benjamin Franklin creates the Russians.

\- The N.W.A is created around this time. Its founding members are John Adams, Ice Cube, Dr. Dre, Meadowlark Lemon, Oscar the Grouch, and Jon Arbuckle. Their actions would go on to change history in a way that none of them could ever anticipate.

\- Ronald McDonald and his army of McDemons are banished to Jigoku by George Washington. Wendy attempts to usurp Ronald's throne but is defeated and banished from their order.

\- An epoch of peace transpires that lasts for thousands of years. Overcome by greed and a lust for power, John Adams founds "The Harlem Globetrotters", an organization made with the goal of creating the ultimate American warrior.

\- Richard Nixon arrives in the past. He becomes close friends with a young Abraham Lincoln and Tupac Shakur.

\- John Adams is the first to undergo the Patriotic Fission, creating Adolf Hitler as a result. Hitler then creates the Communist people and begins his campaign to slay the other Founding Fathers for unrivaled rule of the patriotverse.

\- Adolf Hitler goes into hiding to begin work on his plans to destroy the Americaverse. Tensions die down, and the Communist people live in peace with the Americans for a few short decades.

\- The Space Jam War breaks out between the Looney Tunes and the Monstars from Moron Mountain. The war is ended with the help of Michael Jordan, but Bugs Bunny and his men are tragically killed in the battle. Brendan Fraser is driven insane by the death of his adoptive father and devotes his life to finding a way to bring the Looney Tunes back to life.

\- Garfield defeats Nermal as revenge for murdering Lyman. Impressed by his strength, Abe Lincoln asks him to join the Biker Brethren, an offer which he gladly accepts.

\- Driven to continue their experiments, the Globetrotters ignite a war between the Americans and Communists in order to further their twisted goals. The Communist Wars would go on to last for fifty million years and claim countless lives.

* * *

 **Second Age of the Americaverse (Events During the Communist Wars)**

\- Tupac Shakur and his two sons spearhead the American resistance against Hitler's armies. After the tragic death of Madoka Kaname, Michael Jordan leaves the war effort to focus on raising his young son, Charles Barkley.

\- Honest Abe, Donald Trump, and hundreds of other Americans submit themselves to the experimentation of the Globetrotters in order to help their country. A perfected version of the Patriotic Fission is performed upon Lincoln, raising his strength to godlike levels. The negative result of the ritual, Karl Marx, is contained for a short time but manages to escape.

\- Donald Trump is court-martialed and sent to prison after slaying one of his fellow soldiers from Tupac Shakur's platoon.

\- Adam Sandler forms a pact with the McDemons to destroy the Americaverse when the appointed time arrives. He later infiltrates the Last Alliance of True American Heroes, a resistance movement led by Colonel Sanders, and forces them to carry out his schemes by threatening to kill their loved ones if they disobey.

\- Nixon forms an alliance with Colonel Sanders and finally admits the truth of his mission to change his future. Sanders agrees to help prevent the rebirth of Hitler when the time arrives in a few thousand years.

\- Thanks to Nixon's knowledge of future events, Adam Sandler is able to avoid his own death at the hands of Hitler and survive to complete his plans. Unlike his other soldiers, Sandler never blackmails Nixon or reveals his true purpose to him in order to maintain his trust. As far as Nixon is concerned, Sandler is just an unassuming fool and a subordinate of the Kentucky Colonel rather than a ruthless tyrant and the true leader of the alliance.

\- A Communist android, Anne Frank, is captured by Garfield and reprogrammed to fight for the American cause.

\- Abraham Lincoln trains for 1,488 years and masters the Patriotic Drive. A duel between him and his brother would cause Lincoln to swear off the ability for good and never use it again.

\- Tupac Shakur kills Adolf Hitler in a duel, but perishes from his injuries shortly afterwards. Karl Marx emerges from hiding and becomes the new emperor of the Communist Manifesto in Hitler's place.

\- Several Americans are captured by the enemy and experimented upon. Still lamenting the loss of his son's sanity, Karl Marx transforms five innocent patriots into his 'children', brainwashed Americans who work solely for the Communist armies as assassins and elite warriors.

\- After slaying his Communist father, a young lad named Sonic the Hedgehog travels the land, vowing to slay every Marxist soldier in his path simply to assuage his raging bloodlust. Also, because genocide turns him on.

\- The Communists defeat the American armies, thus beginning the Ameripocalypse.

* * *

 **Alternate Age of** ** **the Americaverse (** Events Taking Place in Mirai Richard Nixon's Future)**

\- The Americans finally defeat the Communist Empire. Unlike the Prime Timeline, Abraham Lincoln never merges with Karl Marx. Instead, Marx is slain along with the rest of his subordinates.

\- Mercenary Winnie the Pooh, Charles Barkley, and Michael Jordan all survive the wars. Without Nixon's warning from the future to unite them, the Last Alliance of True American Heroes disbanded hundreds of years prior.

\- Sonic the Hedgehog never leaves the Biker Brethren. Instead, Sonic stays behind and falls in love with Anne Frank, a Jewish android with particularly large breasts.

\- Adolf Hitler is brought back to the world of the living by the actions of the Harlem Globetrotters. With their forces crippled after the assault on Wolfsschanze, the Americans are powerless to stop his carnage.

\- Charles Barkley and Michael Jordan give their lives to help their friends escape. Abraham Lincoln fights back, but is tragically slain after the Nazi lord reveals his true strength.

\- The American forces are utterly decimated, driving their species to near extinction. Garfield, Anne Frank, and Winnie the Pooh are the only survivors.

\- Anne Frank is driven insane by the atrocities she had witnessed. Garfield cares for her for many months afterwards, but is unable to help as she perishes during childbirth.

\- Garfield decides to raise Sonic the Hedgehog's son as his own. He names him "Richard Nixon", an ancient American name roughly translating to "Dick Slayer."

\- Richard Nixon is trained in the ancient ways of the Americans by his adoptive father, preparing for his eventual confrontation with Adolf Hitler before he even learned to walk. Little did he know, he would eventually fulfill his role and save the Americaverse from Hitler's wrath.

* * *

 **Third Age of** ** **the Americaverse (** Events after America's Defeat in the War)**

\- Billions of Americans are slaughtered during Karl Marx's annihilation campaign. Lincoln goes into hiding, working to build the Biker Brethren to reclaim the Americaverse.

\- Wu-Tang Prime is overrun by the Juggalo Armies. Due to the collapse of the American government, the Wu-Tang people are unable to call for aid and lose their war. RZA and a small band of survivors flee from their besieged homeworld, embarking on a quest to gather the strength and funds necessary to liberate their enslaved race.

\- Abe Lincoln sets out to find the Communist-Slayer, an artifact stolen by Leon Trotsky during the wars that may be the key to finally defeating Karl Marx.

\- Sonic the Hedgehog is invited to join the Biker Brethren after a chance encounter with Honest Abe. He accepts and joins the space bikers on their mission to retrieve George Washington's legendary guitar.

\- The events of _Sonic the Hedgehog: Defender of America_ occur.

\- After the American forces are slaughtered during Americageddon, Sonic the Hedgehog joins forces with Donald Trump and begins his vengeful rampage across the Americaverse. Over time he becomes known far and wide as the infamous "Communist-Hunter."

\- Chaos ensues after the death of Karl Marx. The surviving Marxist lords wage a costly war against each other to fill the power vacuum left behind and take control of his empire and assets. The conflict only lasts for a single year but claims millions of lives.

\- The battle comes to a draw with only the ten mightiest "Communist Underlords" left standing. The remaining Communists later agree to share joint control of the Americaverse to prevent any further bloodshed. However, many among their ranks still scheme to finish off their competitors to gain complete control over the United States for themselves. Fidel Castro in particular has made many attempts to assassinate his fellow Underlords.

\- Anne Frank gives birth to Richard Nixon in the prime timeline.

\- Larry the Cable Guy travels across the Americaverse in search of more members for his Backstreet Boys. He prevents Garfield from taking his own life out of grief and offers him a second chance at saving his country, which he accepts.

\- The Backstreet Boys ally themselves with Fidel Castro and gain his favor by mercilessly crushing every American rebellion they can. To strengthen their powers even more, the Cable Guy trains his pupils in the art of the Patriotic Drive and helps them master this ability over a period of five years.

\- Charles Darkley turns against the Harlem Globetrotters by killing Dr. Mengele and escaping their secret base with the help of Snow Miser. Barkley's evil clone would go on to create the Dark Phoenix Suns to overthrow the current Communist regime and instead establish himself as the ruler of the Americaverse.

\- Brendan Fraser creates the Terrordome and uses it as a tool to routinely entrap hundreds of innocent patriots and sacrifice them in hopes of resurrecting Bugs Bunny.

\- Alex Jones allows himself to be captured by the Backstreet Boys out of boredom. Also, for the free chicken tendies all of their prisoners are provided with.

\- Sonic the Hedgehog forms the "Neo Biker Brethren" and heads for his final confrontation with the diabolical Larry the Cable Guy. The fate of the American race is about to be decided...


	24. The Great Facebook Caper

**OFFERING FRESH SQUIRREL MEAT IN EXCHANGE FOR SEXUAL FAVORS. CONTACT ME IF YOU'RE INTERESTED!**

 _The armies of the Backstreet Boys are out for revenge, the Neo Biker Brethren have been separated, and Sonic the Hedgehog's alliance with Charles Darkley is quickly falling apart. Will Sonic succeed in his goal against all odds, or will he and his team be destroyed?_

* * *

"...I think it's pretty obvious at this point that we're not going to see eye to eye. I hate you, and you hate me. But that's alright. I never expected this partnership to be an easy one. All we have to do is tolerate each other long enough for this mission to succeed. That's why I propose we hold a _sakazuki-goto_ ceremony to solidify our alliance together," Charles Darkley declared. Sonic watched patiently as the dark skinned sportsman knelt down, removed a sake bowl from his jockstrap, and filled it to the brim with Gatorade™.

He lifted the bowl and motioned for Sonic to sit down in front of him. After taking a sip from it, he passed it over to the fuckfurious hedgehog and chuckled, "Whaddya say, pops? Just for today, become my sworn brother. Let's put our differences aside so we can crush the Backstreet Boys together. It'll be just like old times!"

Sonic the Hedgehog swiped the sake bowl from his grasp and guzzled down the remainder of the drink without hesitation. "Alright, Darkley. Let's make this work. I'll put aside my desire to chop your head off with my dick and put up with your Communist ways for now. So, what's the first step in your plan?" He questioned. Crazy Frog finds himself inexplicably aroused by anthropomorphic cars.

"First thing's first, we'll need to change that hideous outfit you're wearing. Don't you have any goddamn class? You need to look fly as fuck during a heist, just like in the movies. You mind hooking us up with a makeover, Trump baby? I can tell that you've got style," Sir Charles asked Sonic's flaxen-haired counterpart.

"What the hell's wrong with the way I dress? I look badass," Sonic asserted as he lowered his shutter shades and hoisted up his assless chaps. However, no one was convinced.

After a heated argument, Sonic eventually relented to his request and changed his outfit. Mark Zuckerberg's security detail trembled with fear as this righteous conclave of shitraging, fuckindignant warlords kicked down the door to the main hall and opened fire with their miniguns.

Darkley turned his head mid-massacre to compliment his hedgehog companion's new fashion, "Hey pops, lookin' slick! You look nothing like the edgy douchebag you were before!"

The trio were now all dressed in matching tuxedos personally picked out and tailored by Donald Trump. Sonic, however, seemed none too pleased with his new suit. The hedgehog proceeded to take out his frustrations by stirring up a whirlwind of carnage and entrails with his electric guitar as he hacked and slashed his way to the other side of the room.

Trump set his fists aflame and conjured a righteous hellfire that reduced the remainder of their foes to ash. Their path now clear, Sonic the Hedgehog and his genocidal posse traveled deeper into the bank in search of the vault where Underlord Fidel Castro stored his vast fortune.

They soon exited into the interior of a hexagonal tower with hundreds of steel safes built into its walls. The structure seemed to stretch for miles upwards, and the only way to access the vaults lining the walls on each floor was to make use of an elevator built into the center of the room. Sonic charged in blindly and lunged at one of the steel doors with his guitar unsheathed, but was shocked to find that even his strongest attacks couldn't make a dent in the metal.

Charles Darkley approached him from behind and shook his head, "Brute force may have helped us get in, but from here on out we'll need to be smart about this. Even if you _could_ break the door down there's no way you'd be able to get past the retinal scanner and the minefield of laser wire on the other side. Luckily for us, I've already got my men working on that. I sent them out earlier to find your missing guys and to take care of the second part of this job. Now all that's left to do is wait for them hack into the mainframe and disable the security for vault 1488."

"Speaking of your plan, I was too busy huffing spray paint before to listen to it. You mind goin' over it again?" Sonic asked as he placed the Communist-Slayer back into its case.

Charles Darkley was evidently annoyed by this, but couldn't pass up another opportunity to talk about how brilliant his strategy was. "Heh! I'm glad you asked, pops! Now listen real close, see? 'Cause I ain't gonna repeat myself again. Here's how my awesome fucking plan goes…" He began.

 _"...So we three are Team A, got it? Team B is composed of Wendy and Jimmy Neutron. Their job is to act as the distraction. Your boy Jimbo will keep Mark Zuckerberg busy while Wendy lays the charges to destroy this whole compound when we're ready to escape."_

While Darkley explained the intricacies of his plan, the combined forces of the Neo Biker Brethren and the Dark Phoenix Suns made their move. However, Father Neutron had his own problems to deal with first. Garfield won't tell anyone that he's only visiting Thailand for the ladyboys.

"C'mon daddy Jimmy, let's ditch this lame plan. How about you and I have some fun instead? Just you and me. Y'know, I've always had a thing for priests..." Wendy teased. While the lingerie-clad succubus crawled towards the priest in an attempt to seduce him, Jimmy scrambled to the other end of the hall and hid himself in a broom closet.

"B-Back away, you lewd ho! Put on some goddamn clothes! No sex until marriage, biatch!" Jimmy Neutron snapped. He truly was every bit as devout in his faith as he claimed. A short time later he emerged from his hiding place and made a beeline towards Mark Zuckerberg's office.

He passed an imposing half-man, half-cat hybrid on his way accompanied by three other men that were clearly no strangers to the art of war. "Yo. Beautiful day today, isn't it?" Jimmy casually greeted him, thinking nothing of the stranger.

"Y-You too," Garfield stuttered awkwardly, too preoccupied with his task to come up with a better response. The two then parted ways, neither party realizing who they had just encountered as they had never met.

Jimmy proceeded to pace around the room for a few minutes trying to muster the courage to directly confront Mark Zuckerberg and his men. By all accounts, the Zucc's reputation as an underworld crime lord was well deserved. He had made his vast fortune by manufacturing and selling drugs and weapons to Karl Marx during the Communist Wars of years past. His criminal empire grew exponentially during those fifty million years of bloodshed until he eventually came to control over half of the Americaverse's money.

There was no Communist Underlord alive today that had risen to power without his aid. Even the monstrous warlord Fidel Castro was deeply in his debt. Because of this, he had the political influence to call upon an entire army of Marxists to fight for him if he ever felt like it. And although he was now but the humble owner of a bank, there was no reason to believe that he had become any less deadly. Challenging Zuckerberg was tantamount to suicide.

But despite the danger in doing so, Jimmy Neutron kicked down the door to his office and swaggered into the center of the room without fear. "Nyeh? Who's this? Did another one of my third-world programmer slaves escape from their cages again?" Zuckerberg questioned Anne Frank in a low voice.

"Good evenin', you rat-soup-eatin' motherfuckers. Have you heard the good news about our lord and savior, Jesus Christ?" Jimmy Neutron asked with a confident grin. Without warning, he removed his glock from his priestly robes and pointed it between Zuckerberg's reptillian eyes. While Jimmy held the two at gunpoint, Wendy finished planting the remainder of her C-4 around the perimeter of the base as Darkley instructed.

 _"...With Team B holding Zucc hostage, Team C will be free to move unobstructed. Drake, Josh, and Alex Jones will head to the lowest level of the bank and hack into the security grid. But disabling the lock won't be so easy. The main computer is guarded by Will Smith, an extremely powerful telepath. Rumor has it that he can melt your brain just by looking in your direction. Yikes!"_

Both Drake and Josh looked completely unamused as Alex Jones regaled them with his conspiracy theories during their trip.

"...And that's why Greenland doesn't actually exist. Have you ever met someone from Greenland? I sure as hell haven't. You know why? It's because it's just a damn _GLOBALIST_ meme! Wait, why are you stopping?" He asked. Just as Alex Jones finished dropping his latest truth bomb, Drake and Josh stopped dead in their tracks and turned their cold gazes towards him.

"No more words," Drake instructed. Although what he had said seemed to indicate annoyance, his tone of voice was just as emotionless as always.

"Yes. We're here now," Josh explained in a similarly dry tone. The two assassins then took out their hacking equipment and began work on unlocking the door to the bank's control room. Alex Jones fondled his greasy chin as he watched them, trying to think of an alternative method to get inside.

"Heh! Out of the way, little cuzzes. This Infowar won't be won by such meager means. This is clearly a job for my latest nutritional supplement: _CAVEMAAAAN!"_ Alex communicated with a guttural grizzly bear roar. Before they could protest, the musclebound American guzzled his protein formula and broke down the steel door with a single punch. Alex Jones then tore his wife beater to shreds, raised his bloodied fist to the sky, and screamed, "Fuck yeah, America! CNN is _FAKE NEWS!"_

"Yo, what the hell is wrong with you guys? Where's your manners? C'mon, learn to fucking knock!" A deep voice echoed from the other side of the room. Will Smith, the security chief of staff, lowered his filthy "Cory in the House" doujinshi and turned around to shoot Alex Jones an aggravated glare.

Drake instinctively readied his ninjatō blade and Josh took out his kusarigama. The two rushed Will Smith at the same time, but were instantly repelled by a barrier of psychic energy that he had formed around himself.

Will Smith opened his third eye and sent the two flying down the hallway with a weak burst of telekinetic force. He then set down his champagne glass of orange juice and yawned, "So, I take it you're trying to rob the bank, right? You're not the first to have tried. I'll congratulate you for getting this far, at least. But I should tell you that no one has ever made it past me. Before I kill you all with my telekinetic abilities, I'll tell you about my life and all of the events that led me here to this place. Long ago, I was a daimyo residing in the feudal kingdom of Bel-Air. It was a prosperous nation for many generations. But that was before my life got flipped-turned upside down. One of our clan's retainers, Geoffrey Butler, turned against us and slew the revered head of our clan. He had formed a plan with the corrupt shogun of the country to seize our greatest treasure, a MP3 player full of Nightcore music that had been passed down since the time of George Washington, and sell it to the Harlem Globetrotters. Now, let me tell you about the political climate of our country at the ti—"

"Brother, just _SHUT UP!_ Real men don't need words to convey their ideas. A true American warrior communicates with others using only his fists and his cock. Let's have a conversation, little cuz!" Alex Jones bellowed. He raised his fists, readying himself for a manly duel to the death.

Will Smith stumbled backwards in shock, "Wh-What insolence! What manner of warrior are you that you won't even share your life's story? But if you're in such a rush to die, I suppose I'll just use my drive ability, **「 Gettin' Jiggy Wit It 」** , now and melt your brain! Not even someone as strong as Fidel Castro could survive this!"

Drake and Josh dove for cover as Will Smith shot a concentrated particle beam from his third eye in Alex Jones's direction. Instead of taking evasive action like any sane man would, Alex merely froze in place and took his mind-shattering attack head-on. Will Smith, Drake, and Josh all held their mouths agape in awe as the smoke cleared and they saw that the humble water filter salesman remained standing.

"Wh-What? No, this can't be! That psychic attack should have liquefied your brain and turned you into a goddamn vegetable! No mortal could've lived through that! _Wh-Who the hell are you?!_ " Will Smith trembled in horror, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Steve Buscemi won't stop talking about how much he hates "wage slaves."

Alex Jones raised his shades and chuckled, "Heh, did you really think that'd work? The fluoride in our water supply already fried my brain long ago! Your attack doesn't hold a candle to the torture the _GLOBALISTS_ put me through. This'll all end with one more punch... feel the power of my Super Male Vitality!"

Alex Jones effortlessly crushed his mighty foe with a single strike, planting his body twenty feet into the concrete. Even Drake and Josh couldn't hide their shocked expressions. Just what was the secret to Alex's titanic strength, and how had a powerhouse whose ability rivaled the great American heroes of old managed to stay in hiding for so long? Whatever the answer may be, there was no time to ponder it know. The two assassins quickly got to work on hacking into the main computer that Will Smith had risked his life to guard.

With the security grid disabled, there remained only one final step in Charles Darkley's master plan. The only thing left to do now was kill Larry the Cable Guy and escape.

Darkley placed his arm over Sonic's shoulder and laughed heartily, "Ha, I knew we could do it, pops! I haven't felt this alive since we rampaged through Trotsky Tower on our way to retrieve Washington's ancient guitar. We make one hell of a good team, don't we?"

Sonic was taken aback by his unusually amiable, non-genocidal tone. But he was even more shocked by the event that he had just made reference to. "Darkley... you weren't there during that mission. That was one of Charles Barkley's old memories. Wait, does this mean... do you actually remember your past life? Do you remember being an American?" The hedgehog gasped.

Sir Charles turned his head away, refusing to answer his question. He had clearly revealed more about himself than he had ever intended to. Without speaking, he pushed open the unlocked door to the vault and waltzed inside past all of the deactivated traps. However, before he could open the final door and claim his mysterious treasure, Snow Miser returned to them with a face that was all too familiar to the Neo Biker Brethren.

"Yoo-hoo, boss! I did as you asked and tracked down the informant that helped us get so far. He's a pretty _chill_ guy once you get to know him. We cracked open a few _cold_ ones on the way here. The deal was that we would help him get out of here safe in exchange for his info, right?" Snow Miser asked and stepped to the side, revealing none other than _Steve Buscemi_ standing right behind him.

Donald Trump immediately produced his flaming swords and entered into a defensive stance. "Darkley-kun, you've been tricked! That man's no informant! He's one of the Backstreet Boys!" He shouted.

Charles Darkley immediately tackled the Heavenly King to the ground after hearing Donald's warning. He placed his pistol against the back of his head and growled, "Dammit! He must've joined after we killed Tony Hawk, that's why I didn't recognize him! This ruins everything! What the hell are you motherfuckers playing at? Why did you want us to come here so badly, huh? Answer me, you bastard!"

Buscemi couldn't help but snicker at the obvious fear he detected in Darkley's voice. Nervous sweat poured down his face and his finger began to tremble uncontrollably on the trigger of his gun. He was genuinely horrified, something that neither Sonic or Trump would had ever expected him to be.

"Darkley... you really are still that same scared, vulnerable little kid that I knew all those years ago, aren't you?" The hedgehog muttered underneath his breath in complete disbelief. Even the look in his eyes was the same as the late Charles Barkley.

Buscemi raised his chin and laughed, "Ha! Pull the trigger if you want, ya dick! Killing me won't help you escape from the hell you're about to endure. You really are stupid to have fallen for such an obvious trap. Larry's brought his full army here for the sole purpose of hunting you down! The Commies ain't gonna stand by and let their little monster run wild any longer. They've come to take you back, Darkley! You're _DEAD!"_

Sir Charles whacked Steve Buscemi in the head in a fit of anger, knocking him out. The dark baller charged towards the final door and kicked it open. However, the treasure waiting for them inside defied all expectation. "N-No way... what the hell is—?" Darkley stammered, genuinely unsure of how to respond.

Sonic the Hedgehog's knees gave way as he looked up at the fiery eyes and finely chiseled facial features of the marble statue towering over him. He gasped, "That's... Abe Lincoln-sama's final resting place! But I thought it went missing ages ago! What is the legendary _Lincoln Memorial_ doing here?"


	25. Backstreet's Back

**THE AUTHOR OF THIS FANFICTION IS A PROUD PARTNER OF DEPEND™ ADULT INCONTINENCE PRODUCTS. LEAVE A REVIEW ON THIS STORY AND GET A FREE COUPON FOR YOUR NEXT ADULT DIAPER PURCHASE!**

 _After risking his life to infiltrate Facebank, Sonic the Hedgehog finds out that the Communists' hidden treasure is none other than Abraham Lincoln's long lost final resting place. But with the Backstreet Boys out for blood, will he survive long enough to find out the secret behind the Lincoln Memorial's reappearance?_

* * *

Since the dawn of time, there have existed many artifacts said to grant unimaginable power to their users. Among these are the Chaos Emeralds, the Joker's Cards, the Dragon Balls, the Crystal Stars, and the holy corpse of Jon Arbuckle. However, none of these legendary treasures can compare to the magical power imbued within the seven gifts created by the god of the Americaverse, George Washington.

Following the demise of the Founding Fathers, these divine heirlooms have been passed down throughout the ages and have exchanged ownership hundreds of times. Many long and bloody wars have been fought over possession of them. But in the end, few were worthy enough to command their awe-inspiring strength and were instead driven mad whilst trying to call upon their limitless power.

However, if someone with an unclouded heart and mind were to possess all seven, he would gain godlike abilities that could rival even those of the Globalists that created the heavens and the earth. Not even death itself would be strong enough to stop such a person. The master of George Washington's gifts would be destined to stand at the top of the world, becoming flawless and untouchable in every way. Many have tried, but to this day none have been able to gather all seven together and ascend into godhood.

The gifts of Washington remain scattered across the patriotverse to this day. The first gift, an electric guitar forged in the flames of hell known as the "Communist-Slayer", is currently in the possession of Sonic the Hedgehog. Charles Darkley owns the second gift, a basketball made of machine guns dubbed "Slamzor." The MP3 player full of nightcore music was in the care of Philip "Zeke" Banks but has since been stolen. Abraham Lincoln was the former owner of the fourth gift, but it vanished mysteriously after his passing. Jon Arbuckle held the gift of divine lordship over all anime hentai and it is presumed to have been buried with him. The whereabouts of the final two gifts are still a mystery to even the most learned of American historians.

Some believe that there are still forces at work trying to gather all of George Washington's gifts together for their own selfish desires. And in the case of the shadowy organization known as the Harlem Globetrotters, they may be very close to achieving this goal...

 _ **AGE 2010 P.A. (Current Year, Team Sonic's Perspective)**_

The floor and ceiling palpitated wildly as a pair of hefty footsteps trudged towards the group from the blackness. A heavy, dark energy spread throughout the vault and filled the Americans' hearts with despair as they heard a voice echo from a mouth unseen.

 _"God bless America, land that I love, stand beside her and guide her…"_ The owner of the voice sang a hauntingly beautiful melody that shook the Americans to their core as he inched nearer. The man soon came to block all of the light of the doorway with his immense height and rippling muscles. Even Steve Buscemi seemed somewhat fearful of the menacing figure towering over them.

"Ha! Now that the boss is here, you damn fascist pigs don't stand a chance! Do you even know who you just picked a fight with? He's the last living member of the strongest bloodline in the history of the Americaverse! The ichor of the gods runs through his veins! He's a deadly weapon that strikes down all of his foes without compassion! He's the mad instrument of destruction that will cleanse this country of its filth and build a new world from the ashes! He is… _Larry the Cable Guy!"_ Buscemi shouted at the top of his lungs, acting as his commander's hype man.

Steve moved behind the Cable Guy for protection and entered into his attack stance. "C'mon, Larry-sensei! These bourgeois crackers ain't shit to us! Lemme at 'em!" He sneered.

Sonic the Hedgehog narrowed his gaze, trying hard to remember who the Backstreet Boy addressing them was. Eventually, he gave up and turned to Trump, "Who is this dumb asshole, anyway? Should I know him?"

"D-D-Dumb asshole? Heh… that may've worked last time, but I've got thicker skin now! Ngh… sh-shitty insults like that won't bother me!" Steve Buscemi insisted despite the tears streaming down his face. Everyone is angry that Crazy Frog won't stop pissing on the toilet seat.

Larry the Cable Guy rested his hand on his subordinate's shoulder and shook his head, "Stay out of this fight, my child. These men are beyond your current strength to deal with. And if you died fighting a hopeless battle on my behalf, I would never be able to forgive myself. Don't worry; I promise you that I will make them pay for what they did to Brendan Fraser!"

"L-Larry-sensei…" Buscemi whimpered, deeply touched in his nether regions by the Cable Guy's kindness. He then saluted his master and retreated to another part of the bank. Donald Trump produced his flaming swords and bolted straight at Larry the Cable Guy while he was distracted. But before he could land a blow, Crazy Frog cleared the distance between them and roundhouse kicked him back to the ground.

Crazy Frog straddled his invisible motorcycle and accelerated towards Trump while he was dazed. Donald licked the blood from his lip and cooed with passion, "Mmm. Sei magnifico! Such prodigious strength! My cock is going to thoroughly enjoy burning you alive, fuckboy!"

Sonic folded his arms and let out a groan, "Hey, dicksleeve! That's my line! Only I can threaten to kill someone with my dick!"

Trump vaulted over the chopper and conjured hundreds of miniature brick walls to rain down upon the amphibian from above. Larry whistled in surprise as he watched the two duke it out, "Excellent! So you really _are_ alive. I had heard that there were men that were resurrected by Adam Sandler's 'rebirth of the world', but this is my first time seeing one in person. Judging by your expression, it appears this information is new to you as well. How fascinating..."

"You... what are you talking about? Are you saying that you actually know how I came back to life after Americageddon?" Trump asked, unable to contain his shock. Truth be told, the mystery of his revival after his final fight on Wolfschanze had weighed heavily on him for some time. Getting sliced in half by Dwayne Johnson wasn't something that most men could so easily recover from.

Larry nodded, "Indeed. And I'm quite surprised that a man who has claimed to have waged war on Communism knows so little about its recent rise to power. On that fateful night, Adam Sandler took the godlike power of the McDemons and dispersed his consciousness across space and time. He essentially fused himself to the Americaverse itself. His Marxist energy still lingers to this day, granting us Communists greatly enhanced strength. Additionally, on the night after Americageddon, a miracle took place. Almost all of the socialists slain during that battle rose again! This was the final gift that Sandler sacrificed his life to give to us. Without his help, our empire would have never been able to conquer the United States so quickly."

"Adam Sandler... that jive-ass motherfucker! I remember Garfield telling me that he had fucked with reality, but I never could have imagined it was to this degree. Even after death that guy is a major pain in the dick," Sonic clenched his fists and growled. Jimmy Neutron decides to take a trip to Sneed's Feed and Seed.

Charles Darkley pushed the hedgehog aside to glare at Larry the Cable Guy. He snarled, "Nobody gives a shit about the past! All I care about now is getting revenge on you Backstreet bastards. I won't let anyone ever control me again! I'm not your slave any longer! This time, you're all going down!"

Donald Trump paused his fight with Crazy Frog to question his comment, "Revenge? I thought you were just here because you wanted to take over the Communist Empire. What are you hiding from us, Darkley-kun?"

"Oh, he hasn't told you about his sordid history? How duplicitous of him. You see, the Charles Darkley you know can't even be called a person. He's more like a puppet that's lost its strings. He was created by our top scientists from Charles Barkley's DNA as a tool to exterminate Americans. But ever since his 'birth', he's always been disobedient. They replaced over half of his brain with machinery, but yet he's _still_ convinced he's a real person. He's such a fool that he actually thinks he has free will. Sad, wouldn't you agree?" Larry the Cable Guy mocked. Crazy Frog couldn't help but snicker as he watched the Round Mound of Rebound try to hold back tears.

"You poor, poor child. You're confused, Darkley. You're a mindless weapon of the Communists that's deluded himself into thinking he's human. But don't worry. We'll help you come back to your senses. You'll be much happier once we remove the rest of your brain and take away your free will! But first, you can stand by and watch while we slaughter your comrades in the glorious name of Communism," Larry continued to ridicule him in the same emotionless voice. However, he was forced to change his tone when he heard a menacing growl bellow from the other side of the room, "This is my **「Last Resort」**!"

"Take back what you said about Darkley, you Monroe Transfer-loving _MOTHERFUCKER!"_ His strength now greatly enhanced by his Patriotic Drive ability, Sonic flew at Larry the Cable Guy and launched a fuckfurious barrage of punches and dick slaps upon him. He then finished his attack by pounding Larry's face into a bulkhead with such force that it rattled the entire floating bank.

"That American's face... was that Adolf Hitler? No, that can't be possible..." Larry muttered as he rose from the rubble. He made use of the technique he had demonstrated during their first encounter to move behind Sonic at an impossibly fast speed. The hedgehog blocked the Cable Guy's surprise attack from behind without a second to spare. If he had raised his arms to guard himself even a single second later, Larry's fist would have taken off his entire head.

The Cable Guy continued to rush at Sonic at the same electric speed and bombard him with his strongest attacks. It took every bit of strength that Sonic could muster just to guard his frenzied onslaught, and launching a counter attack against him was completely out of the question. However, just as the American warlord's strength began to fade, Charles Darkley launched his basketball at him and sent the blue collar comedian rolling across the room. Sonic the Hedgehog starts taking art classes so he can learn how to draw breasts.

A wave of dark energy resembling the sash of a Buddhist Nio statue formed around the back of Charles Darkley's jersey as he activated his own Patriotic Drive ability, which he had dubbed **「Quad City DJ's」**. But instead of following up his attack on Larry the Cable Guy, the vengeful baller lunged at Sonic instead.

Sonic leapt backwards before his attack could connect. He let out a shout while in mid-air, "Hey, Darkley! The hell do you think you're doing, you greasy onahole? I'm on your side!"

Sir Charles ignored his interjection and launched another slam dunk with the intent of killing him. Sonic quickly rolled out of the way and whacked his bald head with the back of his guitar, briefly stunning him. Larry the Cable Guy merely held his ground and watched intently as the two sworn brothers turned on each other for reasons unknown. Even Snow Miser seemed to be shocked by his master's behavior.

The murderous sportsman soon rose to his feet and cracked a bloodthirsty smile, "What am I doing? I'm just following through with what I was programmed to do, daddy-O. There's no redeeming a stone cold bastard like me, so you might as well just forget it. I was made for the sole purpose of killing patriots like you! And just because we have a common enemy in the BSB doesn't change that. It's just so much easier if I kill both of my greatest enemies now and get it over with! This alliance is _OVER!"_

"I know you don't mean any of that shit, Darkley. What's come over you all of a sudden?" Sonic questioned. He continued to evade as his former partner pelted him with his mightiest dunk shots and backboard-shattering strikes. Sparks of electricity engulfed the two sweaty warlords as Spalding basketball and electric guitar clashed ceaselessly, creating massive shock waves that threatened to destroy the entire bank.

Meanwhile, Garfield bided his time on the surface of the ruined world below Facebank. He held several bouquets of roses and rested each of them before a row of gravestones at his feet. The planet's terrain was in fact almost completely covered with graves commemorating the warriors that had died in the horrific conflict that had befallen this remote world long ago. He then knelt down and wiped the dirt from one of the 1,488 memorial plaques, revealing the name of none other than _Guy Fieri._

"The Communist homeworld, huh? I never thought I'd have to come back here again. I suppose it's only fitting that the same place where the Biker Brethren met their demise is where Sonic and I will have our final battle. Michael Jordan, Guy Fieri, Abe Lincoln, everyone... please forgive me for tarnishing your legacy this way. But I can't afford to look back now. I'm going to strike down Sonic the Hedgehog on this field of a million crosses and lay him to rest beside you!" Garfield shouted impotently at the sky.

Garfield took out his shovel and began work on digging an extra grave beside the ones of his compatriots. He placed its accompanying headstone in the ground, which read, _"Here lies Sonic the Hedgehog, the last of the Biker Brethren. May he rest in peace."_

With the Backstreet Boys, Mark Zuckerberg, and Charles Darkley all determined to destroy them, the Neo Biker Brethren's greatest battle was about to begin...


	26. The Death of Charles Barkley

**I WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH A FRESNO NIGHTCRAWLER! DOES ANYONE KNOW HOW TO GET IN CONTACT WITH THEIR HOME PLANET?**

 _Charles Darkley has unexpectedly turned on Sonic, putting the lives of everyone in their alliance in jeopardy. Was this truly his goal from the beginning, or is an outside force making him act this way? And what are Larry the Cable Guy and his apostles of darkness planning?_

* * *

 _ **MOON YEAR 2004 (Shortly after Taylor Swift's Defeat)**_

"Is this really the best you're capable of? I honestly can't help but feel disappointed. I was led to believe that I would be training the ultimate killing machine of the Harlem Globetrotters, but you're just a whimpering child that can barely even fend for himself. I expected better of a clone made from the DNA of Abe Lincoln's late grandson. Stand up and fight me!" Larry the Cable Guy ordered with a crack of his whip. Charles Barkley lay at his feet in a puddle of blood and Gatorade, badly beaten and barely able to stand.

Despite every bone in his body telling him to stay down, the young baller rose again and hurled himself at Larry. He dribbled his b-ball with immaculate skill as he rushed him with his strongest rebounds and dunk shots. But despite his herculean strength, the Cable Guy was still able to send him flying into the court's bleachers with a light flick of his bō staff.

Although his face was filled with splinters and his jersey was splattered with blood, Barkley was still able to smile. He lifted his chin and cracked a toothy grin at Larry to show his defiance, "Don't think you can get away with this forever, you bastard. I know that my dad is still looking for me! Even if he has to tear the whole universe apart to do it, Sonic the Hedgehog will be here soon to free me from this hell. You Harlem Globetrotters have tried your hardest to reeducate me and turn me into one of you, but you won't ever break me. I'd sooner die than become a Communist! The Biker Brethren will save me and defeat you, you monster!"

"That's Larry _-san_ to you, brat," Larry the Cable Guy began to mercilessly beat the lad with his staff as punishment for his disobedience. He rested his boot atop Barkley's chest and sighed, "You really don't get it, do you? You're just a clone. A _fake!_ The real Charles Barkley was killed in action weeks ago. What makes you think that anyone will come to save you? They don't even know that you exist. I could tear out your windpipe right now and your 'father' would be none the wiser. Surely, even you should understand that there is no hope. So why do you still have faith in that man? Why do you still resist us when you know that help will never come?"

His words cut deep into Barkley's psyche. As deep in denial as he was, he couldn't deny the truth in what he had said. The real Charles Barkley truly was dead. He had seen the obituary to prove it. Deep down, he understood that he was nothing but a mockery of the real Sir Charles that needed to constantly drink Gatorade to prevent his own death. But if he abandoned hope in Sonic coming to rescue him, he knew for certain that his sanity would go with it. This false hope was the only thing that had helped him endure the horrendous torture the Harlem Globetrotters were putting him through. Without it he truly would become exactly what his tormentors wanted him to be, and that thought terrified him more than anything else in the world.

"H-Heh... you don't know anything. He'll be here soon! Mr. Sonic's coming to save me as we speak! And when he gets here, he's going to slam-bam you motherfuckers straight down to Hell!" Charles Barkley said in a confident voice, though his bitter tears gave away just how terrified he really was. Unable to take another word, Larry beat the cloned American unconscious with another strike of his bō.

Larry turned his head back to him right before leaving his basketball court-themed holding cell. He chuckled, "Sonic the Hedgehog, huh? He sounds like quite an interesting fellow. Maybe one day our paths will cross. If they do, it will surely mean his doom..."

Charles Barkley continued to hold out hope as his days in captivity turned to weeks, and weeks into months. Even when the Globetrotters eventually lost patience with him and Dr. Mengele had his brain partially replaced to force Barkley's obedience, he never gave up faith that salvation would come. Up until the very last moment before Charles Barkley died and the bloodthirsty persona known as 'Charles Darkley' took over his mind, he waited for Sonic the Hedgehog to arrive. He waited and waited but help never came.

 _ **MOON YEAR 2010 (Present Day)**_

"I waited, Sonic. I waited so damn long for someone, anyone to save me from that nightmare. I waited... for _YOU!"_ Charles Darkley howled in anguish as he lunged at his adoptive father. Sonic the Hedgehog couldn't even will himself to fight back as he was relentlessly pummeled by his b-ball and beaten until his bones splintered. He then uppercutted him through the roof, sending Sonic flying into the open air above Mark Zuckerberg's floating fortress.

Larry the Cable Guy folded his hands behind his back and levitated himself upwards to view their heated fight in the clouds. Charles Darkley continued to indiscriminately pound him with his fists while screaming godless profanities and garbled K-Pop lyrics in ancient languages long forgotten by man.

Sonic, however, made no effort to counter-attack. His cybernetic dick was cocked and ready to ejaculate its payload of cleansing fuckfire, but yet he showed zero interest in shredding apart his enemies like he usually would. Something was clearly amiss.

The rest of the Neo Biker Brethren were simultaneously engaged in intense battles of their own. Donald Trump and Snow Miser were facing off against Crazy Frog, Jimmy Neutron and Wendy were fighting Carl, and Alex Jones had entered into a manly bout with Steve Buscemi. Garfield likes to drink wine from a goblet crafted from Nermal's skull.

"Yee-haw! Are ya'll mayonnaise midgets excited? 'Cause things are gonna get real weird real fuckin' fast!" Steve Buscemi cackled with depraved amusement.

Even Drake and Josh looked shocked as their opponent burgeoned out of his stylish suit to reveal the bizarre getup he had on underneath. Steve Buscemi was wearing a pair of stiletto high heels, booty shorts with the phrase "free ride" written on the back, and a pink crop top with long sleeves.

Drake and Josh both looked as if they were about to vomit from the sight. Alex Jones, however, was inexplicably aroused. The deranged Marxist bent over to stroke his long, hairless legs and snickered, "How's that? Freaky enough for you yet, ya free speech-loving cunts? Well don't worry, because things are about to get even freakier! Freaky's just the way I roll, baby. _Let's get weird with it!"_

Sparks flew across the room as Drake's samurai blade clashed with Steve Buscemi's razor sharp heels. The degenerate Marxist made up for his lack of physical strength by incorporating highly erratic movements into his fighting style, making him nearly untouchable to the two seasoned assassins.

Steve Buscemi fought primarily by pelvic thrusting around the perimeter of the room and bouncing wildly off of all the walls. He proceeded to taunt his opponents by cartwheeling around them whilst also hollering like an unwashed fucklord to throw off their concentration.

After ensuring that he was thoroughly discomforted, Steve Buscemi somersaulted in pursuit of his prey and locked his toned legs around Drake Bell's head. He then brought his mighty foe to the ground with a twist of his hips, nearly snapping his neck in the process. Josh dropped his usual stoic demeanor and made a frantic dash towards the Backstreet Boy to avenge his fallen brother. The two seemed to be evenly matched at first, but Buscemi was able to easily overwhelm him once he activated his Patriotic Drive ability.

"Malleus Maleficarum: **「Pretty Fly for a White Guy」**!" As soon as he uttered the name of his power, all of the steel plating on the walls and floors began to bubble upwards and form hundreds of large, bulb-like protuberances of varying sizes. Josh was mortified to find that the bizarre effects of the ability had spread to his own skin as well, with dozens of tumorous growths bursting out of the leather of his trench coat. A fleshy veil soon sprouted over each of them and revealed a pair of eyelids formed over the spherical growths.

"What the...?" Josh muttered to himself as the eyelids opened and revealed the countless bloodshot eyeballs hidden beneath them. He had encountered many strange abilities while working as one of Darkley's mercenaries, but none could hope to compare to this bizarre display.

Alex Jones was rendered speechless as all of the disembodied eyes that Buscemi had conjured directed their piercing gazes towards Josh and his injured brother. The two weary warriors then immediately collapsed to the ground without explanation. After they had fallen, the mysterious eyes shrank back into nothingness as if they were never there at all.

Alex Jones held his hand to his chin and pondered the nature of his foe's ability, "So, your drive power can create eyeballs on any surface, huh? That's an odd one, little cuz. I ain't sure how you managed to beat those two with something like that, but I do think that I've figured out your fighting style. You're wearing that extremely sexy outfit and moving in unpredictable patterns to throw your opponents off of their game. You've basically invented a fighting style based around making other people feel uncomfortable. And once they slip up, you dive in for the kill. Sound about right?"

"Heh! You're a strange one yourself, filter man. I ain't ever had someone find out the secret to my fighting style after such a short time of watching me. But just because you get how I fight doesn't mean you can beat me. I'm the freakiest guy in all of the Americaverse! I can make anyone feel uncomfortable! You think you can keep up with my level of weird, ya goddamn normie?" Buscemi challenged whilst adjusting his high waisted shorts.

The info warrior snickered in response, "I should be asking you the same question, cuz. I haven't ever encountered someone that didn't think that I was the strangest person they've ever met. Even if you are a depraved crossdresser like Michelle Obama, that won't stop me from going all 1776 on your _GLOBALIST_ ass! Fuck yeah, _AMERICA!"_

"Man, you were kind of a disappointment. I guess the blood lust I felt coming from you earlier was just a false alarm. And here I was hoping I had finally found a guy that was just as unhinged as me. Jeez, finding a good looking psychopath is such a chore..." Wendy groaned as she clamped her finger down on the trigger of her submachine gun. A veritable army of strange creatures were rushing at her and Jimmy from the other end of the hallway where they were taking cover. As soon as one of them fell, another dozen would take their place. It seemed that there was just no end to them.

Just minutes before, Jimmy Neutron was holding Mark Zuckerberg hostage in his office and everything was going according to plan. But then one of the Backstreet Boys appeared to rescue him and put everything in jeopardy. If Wendy hadn't arrived to save Jimmy in the nick of time, he would have been skewered by the legendary strength of his sodomous foes.

What would happen next could only be described as pure chaos. Zuckerberg somehow managed to pump hundreds of gallons of soylent into the ventilation ducts, and said soylent also happened to be sentient. Attacking them now were thousands of vaguely humanoid blobs of soy that seemed especially resistant to all conventional firearms. Mark referred to them as his "soy boys", and they were presumably another weapon developed by his scientists to further his dreams of creating a new world order with himself as the supreme ruler.

"Sorry to disappoint you, baby. I may have pimpin' in my blood, but I ain't that kind of nigga anymore. Pimps do what they want to do, hos do what they told, but a man of the lord does what God wants him to do. Can ya dig it? It's true that I may still have some evil locked deep down inside of me, but I've left my dark past behind. You'll just have to find some other badass pimp to make you into an honest woman," Jimmy Neutron explained, treating her just as he would any other ill-bred thot. The fast food succubus merely rolled her eyes in response.

Father Neutron shot one of the soy creatures between the eyes, but was shocked to find that even this barely slowed it down. "Shit! Out of ammo," Wendy swore as she emptied her last round into the gut of one of the soy boys. Jimmy took out the magazine of his crucifix pistol only to find that he was in the same situation. No matter how many bullets they fired, the soy boys seemed to absorb everything into their doughy bodies.

One of the putrid creatures opened his pulpy maw and attempted to lunge at them while they were defenseless. Thinking quickly, Jimmy Neutron unsheathed the sword concealed within his pimp cane and sliced the mindless beast in two.

"Did... did we win?" The priest muttered as he watched the remaining one thousand, four hundred eighty-eight soylent golems back away in fear.

The reason for their retreat wasn't out of fear of Jimmy Neutron, but rather of the immensely powerful figure walking in their direction. The distinct sound of his flip flops making contact with the ground was enough to shake both Jimmy and Wendy to their core.

Standing in the dimly lit passageway before them was none other than _Carl,_ the newest addition to the Backstreet Boys. He was once the humble apprentice of Garfield, but his talents had allowed him to quickly rise through the ranks to become a full-fledged member of their organization following Brendan Fraser's death.

 **CARL BRUTANANADILEWSKI - Ability Name:** **「** **Foreigner** **」**

"Yo, Fryman. So, uh, we gonna kill some friggin' Americans or what? I wanna get this over with so I can head to the strip club later," The wife beater-clad man grumbled throatily. Jimmy scrutinized his opponent's fighting stance, but was unable to find any openings in the way he held himself. While all of the Backstreet Boys were legendarily strong, it was becoming all too clear that Carl was in a class of his own. Even Brendan Fraser's godlike powers paled in comparison.

Truth be told, Jimmy hadn't felt this terrified since he had fought Adolf Hitler. But for the sake of his new friends, he knew that he had to stay and fight even if there was next to no chance of him succeeding.

Wendy turned her head back to Jimmy as she ran in the opposite direction and shouted, "Hey! The hell are you doing, huh? That guy is way beyond us! We don't have a chance fighting him alone like this. We need to regroup with the rest of the team or he'll slaughter us!"

"You can leave if you want. I'll make sure that he won't follow you. But I'm not going anywhere," Jimmy chuckled, feigning confidence. "I... I know that I'm the weakest of the Biker Brethren. I know there's no getting out of this in one piece. But if I let him leave here, Sonic and everyone else will be in danger. And I refuse to be a burden to those whack-ass motherfuckers that I admire so much. I'll die before I let him take one step beyond this line in front of me!"

Jimmy Neutron carved a divide in the floor with his sword that separated the two warriors. He then held out his hand and beckoned Carl to try and make it past him. Unshaken by his resolve, Wendy turned face and kept running as fast as her legs could carry her. She continued to run for safety even as she heard the priest cry out in pain, concerned only for her own safety.

"H-Ha! What an idiot! Sacrificing himself for someone else... people like him make me sick!" Wendy spat as she stopped to take a breath. She kept her gaze directly ahead, unwilling to look back to see the results of their duel.

She held her chin high as she continued to mock him, "Doesn't he know how anything works? This is war! The only people that survive are the strong and the cowardly. Weaklings like us have no business challenging a monster like him. Who does that priest think he is, anyway? Fighting that guy so that I could escape, making me look like a fool... I hate people like him the most! But... why would he do that for someone he just met?"

Wendy covered her ears as she heard another one of Jimmy's blood curdling screams echoing from the distance. She batted away the tears forming in her eyes and continued, "I... I don't want to help him. He can just die for all I care! That damn baka gaijin is getting what he deserves. I'm not going to save him. _I won't!"_

Wendy continued to assert that she wasn't going to come to his aid. Even as she turned around and began to walk back in the direction she just came, she still swore that she wasn't going to save him. Eventually, she gave in to her desires and sprinted towards Jimmy Neutron's location, "Dammit! Hold on a little longer, you shitty priest! I'm not letting you die today!"

Wendy was greeted by a grisly sight when she finally arrived. Jimmy Neutron was laying at her feet with the back of his head split open and leaking a river of blood upon the marble floor. Carl was standing over his mangled body with no visible injuries to speak of. Their fight was a one-sided massacre just like she had originally predicted. Nobody wants to talk about Crazy Frog's new obsession with K-Pop fashion.

However, Jimmy's grievous head injury had set in motion a chain of events that not even the revered oracle _Tupac Shakur_ would have been able to predict. Carl had hit him with such force that it reawakened a portion of his brain that had laid dormant for years. The damage to his frontal lobe had awakened memories from deep within him that he had tried his hardest to repress, and for a time had totally forgotten. In other words, it had reawakened his dark side from before he had become a born-again Christian.

Long ago, Jimmy Neutron was an infamous crime lord and a pimp feared by many. The Communist underground saw him as a rival for their own dubious activities because of this and conspired to bring him down. He was defeated and imprisoned on Stalingrad III for his crimes, but not before Marxist soldiers dealt him a severe amount of head trauma. His injury made him forget almost everything about his time as a pimp, and with the help of _Hugh Neutron,_ a fellow prisoner, he was able to reform himself into a better man.

But all the while he never once remembered his life from before his criminal empire fell and he was incarcerated. He had even forgotten his original name and decided to call himself Jimmy based on his prisoner ID, which was "JMY-28." A raging demon slept within him, and that very demon was about to be unleashed once more.

"H-Hey, Jimmy Neutron! Wake up! Don't die on me yet! Get up and fight!" Wendy begged as she tugged on the priest's velour tunic. Jimmy's eyes fluttered open, but staring back at her wasn't the same American she had met before. He cracked an evil, demented grin as he rose to his feet that was completely out of character for him.

Much to her shock, he suddenly swung his sword at her with the intent of slicing open her throat. Wendy gasped as she dove under his blade and scrambled for cover, "Agh! What the fuck's wrong with you?! You could have killed me!"

The anime-haired priest lowered his gaze and cackled, "Jimmy Neutron? Who the hell is that? I've never met someone by that name in my whole life. I'm the man that people call the pope of pimps. I'll murder anyone who gets in my way! Hell, I'll even kill their families too just for fun! And all I see in this room are two targets for my sword to eviscerate. You'll soon know the terror of the mack daddy from hell! My name is... _Carl Wheezer!"_

Sonic's face was now swollen and bloody from the relentless beatdown that Charles Darkley had unleashed upon him. Without warning, the swarthy sportsman flew at him again and smashed his face straight through a dozen of the high-rises lined around the floating city. The American hedgehog collided with the ground with such force that it nearly knocked the entire bank out of the sky. An intervention is staged when Sonic's obsession with harsh noise music starts to grow out of hand.

Sir Charles immediately descended upon him in a ball of fire with his basketball in-hand, beating him downward and burying him in an impact crater that stretched for nearly a mile across. Sonic the Hedgehog crawled out from under a pile of steel girders and began to violently hack up blood, but still showed no interest in defending himself.

Even as Darkley lifted him upwards by the wrist and began to furiously smash his entire body into the ground until his bones cracked, Sonic made no attempt to fight back. "I can't do it... I can't fight like this!" He thought to himself as he tumbled across the bank's roof in a puddle of his own bodily fluids, leaving a red streak on the ground behind him.

Every time Sonic clenched his meaty fists and prepared to strike back, his gaze would meet Charles Darkley's and he would be reminded of the friend he used to know. He couldn't help but think back to the times they spent together as father and son. Whether it was playing catch or slaying socialists, they did everything together. Sonic then laughed as he remembered the time when he took Charles Barkley to his first strip club and paid a stripper to give him a lap dance. Such was a traditional bonding experience dating back to the epoch of George Washington.

Sonic's body went limp as Sir Charles flew at him again and began to pummel him in mid-air. If he truly wanted to, he could have snapped his neck right then and there. But Sonic couldn't lift a finger against his beloved adoptive son, even after learning how irredeemably awful he was. Sonic had every reason to despise Darkley and wish to murderize him with his cock, but whether it be out of foolishness or simple love for his friend, he just couldn't bring himself to hate him.

"So this is how it ends, huh? I never thought I'd be done in by my closest friend. But if it's him that does it, that's fine by me. It's better that I die at the hands of a man that I respect rather than be killed by some shitty Commie. Abe Lincoln, Michael Jordan, Harambe, Richard Nixon... I'm coming to join you!" In that moment, Sonic the Hedgehog closed his eyes and accepted his fate. With one final, galaxy-shattering slam dunk, the fuckferocious baller sent him flying over the edge of the floating bank and to his certain demise on the planet's surface thousands of feet below.

He stood over the edge of the craft and watched the proud American warrior fall through the clouds and disappear from sight. But despite having bested him in combat, Darkley didn't seem pleased in the slightest. In fact, he felt as felt tiny, wretched, and powerless as he did when he nearly killed Sonic on this same planet six years ago.

Sir Charles wiped the tears from his eyes and spoke in a hushed voice, "Please, Sonic. Please don't die here. Don't let my sacrifice be for nothing. For the sake of the United States, _you have to live...!"_

Larry the Cable Guy suddenly burst into laughter as he watched the American's mangled body plummet through the sky. He turned to Charles Darkley and sneered, "Hmph. You really are pathetic. You're just as weak and sentimental as you were all those years ago. Did you really think I wouldn't see through your ploy? You can pretend that you tried to kill him all you like, but I know you better than that. This was all just a pathetic attempt for you to try and save his life. The programming Dr. Mengele put in your head prevents you from helping an enemy soldier directly. But you discovered the loophole in that programming, didn't you? As long as you were actively trying to kill him, you could also 'accidentally' deliver him to safety. You pushed him off the edge of the bank so that I wouldn't slaughter him, didn't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. If Sonic dies when he hits the surface, that's fine by me. If by some chance he lives, that's fine too. I wasn't trying to save his life. That man means absolutely nothing to me. I'm a mad dog who's only concerned with winning," Darkley answered coldly.

"The chances of him surviving that fall are infinitesimally slim. He's going to die believing that you betrayed him. Are you really OK with that?" Larry asked, trying to get a rise out of him.

"He can believe whatever he wants to believe. All I know is that it isn't his destiny to die today. When I watched him fight you earlier, I realized this strategy of mine was doomed to fail. Even both of us put together wouldn't be enough to stop a monster like you. There was no point in both of us dying, so I did the only thing I could to save him. If saving his life twice makes me pathetic, then so be it. But I still have one last trick left to kill you with. You're going straight down to Hell, you pinko bastard!" Charles Darkley shouted, his voice full of impotent niggerrage. He then stretched out his bloody fist and lunged at his indomitable enemy.

Larry the Cable Guy entered into his signature kempo stance, prepared to fend off his desperate attack. "That's Larry-san to you, you ungrateful brat. I trained you and taught you everything you know, but this is how you choose to repay me? I was more of a father to you than Sonic the Hedgehog ever was. I'd love nothing more than to kill you where you stand for your impudence, but Meadowlark Lemon ordered me to bring you back alive. So, how do you intend to defeat me, hm?" He cocked his head to the side and asked.

"Long ago, my _real_ father killed another seemingly unbeatable foe with the power of a godly basketball forged by George Washington. I had always wondered why the Harlem Globetrotters wanted me brought in alive so badly, and I finally figured out the secret. That same basketball is my power source! It's the reason why I survived and your other twisted experiments all failed horribly or went mad! You put it inside of me when I was first cloned and now you want it back so you can gain the ultimate power. Well, if you want it back so badly, you can have it!" Darkley shouted. Without warning, he plunged his claws deep into his chest and ripped out his own heart. Except it wasn't actually a heart, but rather a blood-soaked basketball wrapped in arteries and veins.

 _"Slamzor?!_ So you finally figured out the truth of your power. This... complicates matters. But surely you must know that no one has ever survived a slam dunk from that divine ball. If you use it, you'll kill us both!" Larry the Cable Guy gasped, shocked that Sir Charles was desperate enough to employ such a suicidal strategy. Darkley, however, was unfazed by his warning. In an instant, he channeled the full extent of his fuckmurderous hellfury into his fingertips. He soared into the air with Slamzor gripped tightly at the fag end of his outstretched arms, poised to strike.

"Everybody get up, it's time to slam now! We got a real jam goin' down! _Welcome to the Space Jam, MOTHERFUCKER_ _!"_ Righteous tears streamed endlessly down Charles Darkley's face as he descended upon Larry the Cable Guy. His flesh-coated basketball fatefully collided with the baleful Communist's face and spawned a massive explosion that consumed everything for miles, instantly incinerating them both. As foretold in legend, it was **metal as fuck**. ** _  
_**


	27. Extra: Miscellaneous Facts and Trivia

**SUGGESTED LISTENING: "SPHERES OF MADNESS" BY DECAPITATED**

 _In this chapter I'm going to list off all of the random ideas/jokes/observations I've had for the story that I've never had the time or interest to properly incorporate. Most of these are ideas I've wanted to write about for a while now but just never worked out, and I didn't want them to go to waste. I might make more chapters like these if any other concepts end up going unused in the story. Anyway, enjoy the filler!_

* * *

\- There are four distinct types of Patriotic Drive users: Augmenters, Summoners, Manipulators, and Prodigies. Augmenters alter their own bodies to enhance their physical abilities, Summoners fight by conjuring items and weapons, and the powers of Manipulators allow them to change the world around them without being able to alter themselves. Prodigies are extremely rare cases that have an affinity for all three classes and can learn any abilities from them. More often than not, those from this class were born with their powers and never had to train to use them.

\- A person can create as many drive abilities as they wish, but they're constrained to only using powers from within their ability type. For example, Donald Trump could potentially learn how to use Brendan Fraser's drive ability, but he wouldn't be able to learn Sonic's because they belong to a different class. Larry the Cable Guy is an example of someone with multiple Patriotic Drive abilities.

\- Sonic used to listen to nü-metal with his mother, Ryūko Matoi, when he was a child. He still listens to it regularly as an adult because it reminds him of his youth.

\- Ice Cube comes from a proud family tree of rappers with ice-themed powers. His father is Vanilla Ice, his uncle is Ice-T, his brothers are Just-Ice and Doctor Ice, and his mother is Icey Jaye. Ice Cube is also distantly related to Captain Cold and Snow Miser.

\- Sonic's incredible healing abilities come from the spirit of Adolf Hitler within him. Just like Hitler could when he was living, Sonic's body can heal almost any nonfatal wound with ease. This healing power is even further enhanced when his Patriotic Drive ability is active. **  
**

\- Unlike his counterpart, the short-lived clone of Adam Sandler had no ambitions of overthrowing his father and destroying the Americaverse. He lacked the brand of the McDemons and was a much more stable person because of it.

\- Tony Hawk was the first member of the Backstreet Boys recruited by Larry the Cable Guy. He was the original vice-commander of their nefarious organization and his Patriotic Drive ability was named **「Superman」**. Garfield would later be appointed to his position after he was murdered by Charles Darkley.

\- Karl Marx's brainwashed 'children' had an intense rivalry with Adam Sandler. They saw themselves as the true heirs to the Communist throne and did everything in their power to earn their father's praise. But despite their best efforts, Sandler was still his favorite child.

\- Alex Jones is currently the oldest living being in the Americaverse. His true age is well over a billion years old.

\- Sonic the Hedgehog's first sexual experience was with a female velociraptor. As one might expect, this fueled the Scalie fetish he would develop later in life.

\- A select few "prodigies" are born with their Patriotic Drive abilities already unlocked. Among these few are Charles Barkley and Calvin. Calvin's explosive powers and Barkley's telekinesis are both a result of their awakened abilities. Their powers are named **「Dirt Nasty」** and  
 ** **「Quad City DJs」**** respectively. ** **  
****

\- The spirit of Adolf Hitler still exists within Sonic the Hedgehog. **「Last Resort」** simply allows Sonic to harness the dark spirit within him without losing his mind in the process. If something traumatic were to ever happen to him, it's possible that he could even resurface and take over Sonic's body yet again.

\- The Backstreet Boys ranked from strongest to weakest are as follows: Larry, Garfield, Carl, Crazy Frog, Tony Hawk, Brendan Fraser, Steve Buscemi.

\- The Biker Brethren ranked from strongest to weakest are as follows: Abe Lincoln, Guy Fieri, Richard Nixon, Sonic the Hedgehog, Dwayne Johnson, Garfield (As Garzooka), Charles Barkley, Michael Jordan, Garfield (Base Form), Anne Frank, Bert, Ernie, Barack Obama.

\- Rosa Luxemburg was the only Marxist General to survive the destruction of Wolfschanze. She is currently a member of the Communist Underlords.

\- Adam Sandler's spirit still exists deep in the bowels of Jigoku. Just as Honest Abe can be considered the current god of the Americaverse, Sandler could be thought of as the devil.

\- Tails the Fox worked under Josef Mengele while he was a scientist of the Harlem Globetrotters. After uncovering the truth behind what Meadowlark Lemon was planning to do, he destroyed all of the group's research and went into hiding. Larry the Cable Guy was sent to hunt him down but was never able to catch him.

\- The power imbued within Jon Arbuckle's holy corpse came from the Gift of Washington he possessed before he died. This power still exists in his cremated remains, waiting for a new user to use its strength as Garfield and Nermal once did.

\- Alex Jones's magic-infused supplements all have unique properties that aid him in battle. Super Male Vitality triples his physical strength for a short period of time. Brain Force dopes his brain to work faster, allowing him to quickly come up with a strategy to defeat his enemies. Caveman brings out the raw power and honed instincts of the primitive human within him. Super Female Vitality temporarily transforms Alex Jones into a sexy woman. Lastly, Survival Shield enhances his defensive capabilities at the cost of some of his strength.

\- Abraham Lincoln's ability is named **「Burnin' Holes in the Eyes of Abraham Lincoln」**.


	28. Sonic VS Garfield: The Final Battle

**ATTENTION RICK AND MORTY FANS: PLEASE STOP READING IMMEDIATELY! THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER IS TOO INTELLIGENT FOR SOMEONE OF YOUR IQ TO COMPREHEND.**

 _Charles Darkley has just given his life to deliver Sonic the Hedgehog to safety. Will Sonic be able to finish what he started and crush the Backstreet Boys, or will he die trying?_

* * *

 _Sonic the Hedgehog and Garfield the Cat. Once upon a time, they were sworn brothers that fought side by side on the field of battle. But then the dark day known as Americageddon came to pass and changed everything._

 _The tragic demise of the Biker Brethren would forever alter the lives of these two fuckfurious warlords. Sonic the Hedgehog turned his grief into righteous anger and chose to slay evildoers in honor of his fallen comrades. Garfield, however, became disillusioned with the American way of life and began to walk down the path of darkness._

 _One man became a paragon of American strength and freedom, while the other became one of the most vile socialists the world had ever seen. A clash between these two former friends was inevitable. Sonic and Garfield had fought many times over their conflicting beliefs, but there was never a clear victor to any of their battles. But that was all about to change._

 _Six years after they had gone their separate ways, Sonic the Hedgehog and Garfield would return to the planet Wolfschanze for their final encounter. Only one of these men would survive this clash of titanic power and live to realize their dream for the United States. The fates of both the Neo Biker Brethren and the Backstreet Boys would be decided by the outcome of their duel. The final battle for the future of the Americaverse was about to begin…_

* * *

"You never cease to surprise me, blue hedgehog. I thought a fall from that height would have killed you instantly."

Sonic's eyes fluttered open as he heard a voice calling out to him from the distance. He laid buried in a crater on the surface of Mark Zuckerberg's world, his body twisted and mangled from the fall. To be truthful, he never expected that he would survive his fight with Charles Darkley. Waking up and finding that he was still alive was so much of a shock that he barely even registered Garfield standing over him.

The hedgehog groaned as he surveyed the extent of his injuries. Without even flinching, he popped his dislocated limbs back into place and rose to stare down his greatest enemy. Sonic laughed, "Y'know, what can I say? I die hard."

Garfield began to walk ahead at a slow pace, and Sonic followed right behind. They trudged through an ankle-high lake of blood and bone fragments as they walked. The thought of stepping through what could potentially be the remains of his comrades made Sonic sick to his stomach, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and continued.

The destruction done to this remote planetoid during Americageddon was so great that it still looked the same as it did six years ago. The air still reeked of gunpowder, shredded corpses still littered the earth, and the terrain was still overflowing with magma from the time when Wolfschanze merged with the realm of the McDemons. The godless sight alone was enough to bring back memories that were traumatic for both of the former bikers.

"So there's more to you than just looking like me. What are you, anyway?" Garfield asked. The portly feline broke into a jog, and Sonic promptly raised to his speed to match his. Steve Buscemi won't stop screaming about cultural appropriation.

"What you see is what you get. Just a guy who loves adventure. I'm Sonic the Hedgehog!" Sonic answered with a sly grin. The two continued to run faster as they darted through the desolate wasteland, weaving their way through thousands of unmarked grave stones.

Garfield lowered his gaze and chuckled, "I see. But you know, I can't let you live. Your adventuring days are coming to an end!"

The two musclebound Americans changed directions and ran directly at each other. They both threw their strongest punches as they moved into range, striking each other across the face at the exact same time in a fashion that mirrored each other. They both held their ground with their fists still dug into the other's cheek, unwilling to give their opponent even an inch to counterattack.

Sonic ducked and swept Garfield off of his feet with a kick. Thinking fast, the Communist feline rolled while in the air landed safely on his feet. The hedgehog lunged forward during the confusion and thrust his fist into his opponent's gut. He let out a cry of pain as his knuckles collided with Garfield's abs of iron, nearly breaking them.

It immediately became clear that Garfield had been training his doughy body for the past six years into becoming a toned killing machine with Larry the Cable Guy's help. Sonic nursed his bloody fist as he backed away. He surveyed Garfield's pulsating muscles for any openings in which he could strike, but was unable to find any. The man Sonic was facing now was of a completely different caliber than the one he used to know.

Sonic and Garfield stared each other down on this field of a million crosses in the lake of blood. The American hedgehog began to pace in circles around him and spoke, "Heh, you ain't half bad. This might even be a challenge. Y'know, there's one thing I've been dying to ask you for a while now. Just who the hell is Larry the Cable Guy? What kind of man is he that you would turn against everything we've been fighting for to join him? Why is that goddamn pinko so important to you?"

"You wouldn't understand, laddy. He's my savior. If it weren't for him, I'd be dead right now. But it's much more than that. I've known Larry for hundreds of years. Did you really think that you've met _all_ of the Biker Brethren? There were many, many more of us during the wars. That man was our original XO, and he led us to victory in countless battles. But he wasn't just any ordinary soldier. _Larry the Cable Guy is Abraham Lincoln's long-lost brother!"_ Garfield shouted at the top of his lungs.

Sonic gasped and fell backwards in shock, "Wh-What? Honest Abe has... a brother? So that's why he's so damn powerful. It all makes sense now, this must be what Method Woman's prophecy from before meant. She was trying to warn me about that monster all this time!"

* * *

 _Method Woman spoke in a grave voice, "Know this, Sonic of the Hedgehog Clan: you are not alone. There is another surviving member of the Biker Brethren besides yourself and your partner. One of them survived Americageddon. When he reveals himself, the age of hellbane will wash over the world and the cycle of time will repeat itself once more. After this comes to pass, you shall face your final destiny."_

* * *

"The Backstreet Boys follow the creed of redemption through chaos. Larry's got a plan to end all of this bloodshed by exterminating every last pocket of American resistance. I hate doing it, but it's a necessary evil to prevent another fifty-million year war. You may not realize it, but your very existence is fueling this conflict. The Communist-Hunter is an inspiration to the oppressed Americans of the world! Thousands of them have already taken up arms after hearing of your exploits. They're planning to go to war in your name. If I can't kill you now, we'll never have peace!" Garfield snarled, his voice full of impotent hellrage.

Sonic unsheathed his guitar and began to fend off Garfield's frenzied attacks. He skillfully broke past his defenses and headbutted Sonic, sending him tumbling through the cartilage that caked the soil. Much to his horror, Garfield produced an electric guitar of his own and attempted to skewer him with it.

Sonic rolled to the side before the blade could split his skull in 1,488 pieces. He then stood and proceeded to feverishly clash his guitar against Garfield's own. Sparks flew in all directions as cold steel collided with cold steel. The terrain surrounding them soon crumbled to pieces, rended by the countless flying slashes produced by their heavenly blades.

"A guitar, huh? What happened to those chainsaw nunchuks that you were always so proud of?" Sonic asked as their matching instruments continued to clash. Crazy Frog is irritated that no one will call him "The Annoying Thing."

Garfield shook his head and a look of sadness spread across his face. He answered him in a grim tone, "In order to kill you, I've discarded my past. I'm not the same honorable man that Jon Arbuckle entrusted those nunchuks to all those years ago. There's far too much innocent blood on my hands for me to be worthy enough to wield them. That's why I've chosen to wield the electric guitar instead, the weapon of choice for cold-hearted killers like you and me!"

Garfield parried Sonic's vengeful blows one by one as their fight dragged on. He was eventually able to knock the Communist Slayer out of his hands with a skillful stroke of his own guitar. The instrument slid across the dirt and far out of Sonic's range before he could recover it, leaving him defenseless. Left with no other option, he tore his belt asunder and ejaculated a laser beam from his robotic dick.

Garfield mimicked his movements and dropped his own tattered jeans. Now dangling from his crotch was a perfect replica of Sonic's own machine gun cock that was decorated with red and yellow Communist iconography. The socialist feline fired a beam from his own chode that detonated his attack, incinerating everything for miles.

"Surprised? I have a gun dick now, too. In fact, I've copied all of your weapons for this battle. My guitar is named **「The Patriot Slayer」** and my cyborg dick is called the **「Bolshevik Boner」**. My current fighting style has been developed for the sole purpose of defeating you. I know all of your moves and have mastered all of your techniques. Anything you can do, I can do better!" Garfield shouted as he fired off another shot from his groin cannon. The beam detonated the ground beneath Sonic's feet, propelling him high into the air.

Sonic's body came crashing down to the earth with a loud thud. He swore beneath his breath as he coughed up blood and bits of undigested Pocky on the ground. He had never anticipated that Garfield's abilities would have advanced to the point where almost all of his techniques would be rendered useless against him. Luckily, Sonic still had an ace up his sleeve that he was confident would be enough to murderize him.

"This is the end, you dumbass Commie baka! Cut my life into pieces… this is my **「LAST RESORT」**!" Sonic the Hedgehog let out a guttural, demonic roar as he activated his Patriotic Drive. His muscles began to balloon to an enormous size as he flew at his sworn enemy, prepared to strike. Garfield silently held his ground as the hedgehog swung his gargantuan fists down upon him for the killing blow.

He calmly parted his crossed arms and snickered, "Didn't you hear me before? I already told you that I've developed a countermeasure for all of your techniques. Anything you can do, I can do better! _It's time for the super feline GARZOOKA to whoop some capitalist ass!"_

Sonic's colostomy bag exploded from shock as Garfield suddenly tripled in size and socked him back to the ground. Before he even had a second to recover, he kicked the Communist-Hunter in the ribs as hard as he could and sent him flying across the earth.

Sonic dug his nails into the ground to stop himself from careening into the bottom of a canyon. He took the time to catch his breath and reflect on his current situation, "Dammit! He wasn't kidding when he said he had me figured out. Not only is he strong, but I couldn't sense him moving to attack at all. That insane speed, the accuracy of his movements… I can barely even keep up with him right now. If I can't come up with something that he can't counter, I'm fucked!"

Sonic and Garzooka lunged at each other and came to blows once again. Shockwaves rippled throughout all of the known universe every time their fists made contact, destroying an innumerable amount of planets with every attack. But no matter how many times he struck his mighty foe, Sonic was still unable to deal any substantial damage to him.

The Backstreet Boy was rapidly beginning to lose his patience. After several minutes of Sonic ineffectually slapping him around with his dick, Garzooka balled up his fist and prepared to throw another one of his planet-destroying punches at him. Dark clouds gathered overhead and the earth shook violently as he charged his attack, but the American hedgehog made no attempt to dodge.

The obese man-cat snickered in response, "You're not going to avoid this? Have you really lost your will to live already? So be it. In that case, I'll kill you now and avenge Brendan Fraser-chan!"

The Communist-Hunter folded his arms, looking none too concerned. He chuckled, "You're quite the overconfident ass, ain'tcha? The outcome of this fight hasn't been decided yet. Luckily for me, I can tell that you still don't have the thirst for blood. You had the chance to do me in before, but you let me live. Even now you're holding back by not using your drive power. That weakness of yours is the reason why I'm going to win this fight. I don't have some gay, half-assed goal that I don't have the resolve to fully see through like you do. I've got a dream that I'm willing to kill anyone for. _FUCK YEAH, AMERICA!"  
_

Just as Garzooka snapped and launched his attack, Sonic reverted back to his base form. He was able to dive under his titanic fist with ease thanks to his smaller frame and the heightened speed that came with it. The moment Sonic moved into range, he activated **「Last Resort」** once more and landed a crushing blow to Garzooka's face while he was defenseless.

Garzooka shakily rose to his feet and spat out one of his bloody teeth. Despite such a thing being an unholy act forbade by George Washington, Sonic flipped his enemy off with both hands to gloat about finally landing a good hit on him.

He dove forward for another enraged attack, but Sonic changed back to his standard form a second time and evaded the giant's sluggish movements with ease. The fuckraging hedgehog continued to pummel his foe into submission in the same fashion, freely switching between his normal and transformed state to match the situation.

Garfield mimicked his movements by shifting back into his lighter base form and throwing himself at Sonic. But before he was able to transform back to strike, the fuckferocious hedgehog socked him in the jaw and planted his face deep into the dirt.

The cat rolled over and snarled, "Not bad. I can tell that you've already improved immensely since the start of our fight. Looks like I can't afford to be merciful to an enemy of your skill level. You knew that there was no chance to win against someone just as strong and fast as you, so you found out a way to become even faster without sacrificing any power. I'll admit that even I couldn't have come up with a strategy like that. There's no way I can replicate that skill as I am now."

"Heh, looks like my gamble paid off. I finally found a technique that you can't duplicate. Both of our transformations grant us twice our normal strength at the cost of our speed, right? As long as I can keep this up, you won't be able to touch me. I also figured that since your transformation didn't come from a Patriotic Drive, you wouldn't be able to switch back and forth as quickly as I could. So, are you finally going to fight me seriously or what? I know you're still holding back," Sonic asked. He then beckoned him forth with one hand and challenged him. "Bring it on, you pinko bastard!"

"Very well. I wanted to give you a painless death out of respect, but if you want me to viciously tear you apart like an unwashed hellhound from the bowels of the netherworld, so be it. Dies Irae: **「Real G's Move in Silence Like Lasagna」**!" Garfield bellowed as he activated his ultimate ability.

Despite almost dying from his drive ability once before, Sonic showed no fear. He silently cocked his machine gun dick and waited for his opponent to make the first move. The second he spawned one of his portals, he planned to pump him full of lead with his bloodthirsty demon genitals and bring an end to their duel.

Sonic dove to the ground as he sensed a guitar slashing at him from behind. He turned around to see Garfield's head and torso peaking out from a wormhole behind him, poised to stab Sonic from behind. But before he could counterattack, Garfield shrank back into his pocket dimension and vanished from sight.

The Communist-Hunter took the time to ponder the nature of his enemy's technique. Garfield possessed the ability to open up fissures in spacetime that led to a dimension of his own creation. He could then send his body parts through the portals he conjured to attack his enemies from any distance. Alternatively, he could send his whole body into one and reappear virtually anywhere. And while he hadn't yet seen him do it, Sonic surmised that Garfield could also retreat into his pocket dimension to avoid any of his attacks. Needless to say, the apprentice of Jon Arbuckle was going to be a difficult foe to overcome.

Garfield leapt out of his dimension once again and slashed Sonic across the chest with his blade. Sonic opened fire with his dual machine guns, but the Communist warlord had already disappeared before his bullets could reach him. Jimmy Neutron refuses to share his dreams of living as a housewife with anyone.

His whole body then tensed with fear as a wall of identical portals encircled him. With so many surrounding him, it would be nearly impossible to guess which one his enemy was going to appear from. Before he had any chance to dodge, Garfield launched out of one of the otherworldly doorways and mercilessly lacerated him with his bloody guitar.

Sonic the Hedgehog cried out like a woman in travail as Garfield impaled him through the stomach with his electric guitar. But despite having suffered a wound that would have instantly killed any lesser man, he remained steady on his feet. Garfield appeared visibly shaken by the sight.

He staggered backwards with the weapon still stuck through him, forcing it from Garfield's hands. He ignored the blood gushing from his opened wound and managed a cocky grin, "Heh... did you think a little cut like that would be enough to defeat me? Plenty of people have spilled my red, white, and blue blood before. But that won't stop me. You know why? It's because _THESE COLORS DON'T RUN, MOTHERFUCKER!"_

Sonic let out a masculine gorilla screech as he snapped the guitar that was still pierced through him in two. He then activated **「Last Resort」** once more and wrapped his hands around Garfield's throat, throttling him. The feline's face turned a bright shade of red and his eyes rolled backwards as Sonic the Hedgehog proceeded to choke the life out of him. **  
**

Despite barely being conscious, Garfield still had enough strength to punch Sonic in his wound and knock him off kilter. Both of them violently hacked up blood as they stumbled backwards and moved to stare each other down once more. Neither man could afford to feel pity for their opponent any longer. All it would take is a few more well placed hits and this heated duel would be over. And with both Garfield and Sonic half-dead, this was still anyone's fight.

Garfield flicked the blood away from his lip and spoke, "You know there's no living a normal life for old soldiers like us. All we've ever known is war. Do you really think you'd be able to live happily after all we've seen? Do you really think you could raise a son and care for Anne Frank with so much blood on your hands? We're nothing but monsters that this war created. People like you and me are doomed to die alone and unloved. That's our fate, and I'm sure you understand this too. Why do you still resist Communism and fight when you know you'll never find happiness?"

"You really have become a miserable socialist sack of shit, haven't you? What happened to that wide-eyed, idealistic man-cat that believed that America could be saved even when the outlook was grim? I'll be the first to admit that this war has majorly fucked me up. But unlike you, I won't let that hold me back. I _am_ going to defeat the Communists and live together with Anne Frank and Richard Nixon, and I won't let anything stop me from achieving that goal. You're the only one here that will never find happiness, Garfield-san. You're pathetic," Sonic responded coldly.

"You don't know anything about me! You know nothing of the Backstreet Boys and all the hardship we've been through! We used to share those exact same ideals, but fate crushed those foolish dreams of ours during Americageddon. You either die as a capitalist or you live long enough to see yourself become a communist. You'll see that we're right, even if I kill you to make you understand!" Garfield snapped, dropping his calm and collected facade.

The hedgehog slowly shook his head out of a mixture of pity and disgust. He then stepped forward and sighed, "Y'know, I think I've finally figured you Backstreet Boys out. You're all sad, pathetic, broken Americans who've lost their will to fight. You're so afraid of dying that you've turned to our greatest enemy for protection. You've even given up the freedom and liberty that all of us Americans pride ourselves upon. But worst of all, you've deluded yourselves so much that you actually think betraying our country and slaughtering our kinsmen is _justice._ For the sake of the beautiful, free country that I love, I can't allow you twisted motherfuckers to succeed. I'm going to make America great again!"

"You're wrong, Sonic. Larry the Cable Guy is the man who will make America great again. _And I will be his shield!"_ Garfield asserted, unshaken in his beliefs. For the sake of his savior, he was fully prepared to sacrifice himself if it meant taking Sonic down with him. His devotion to him was far beyond that of even a fanatic. No matter what Sonic said, there was nothing he could do to get him to change his mind.

The socialist man-cat reminisced about the kindness of the Backstreet Boys as he moved in for the final attack. Just like Larry the Cable Guy, he considered them all to be a treasured part of his own family. He remembered all of the times they shared together, both good and bad. He remembered the laughs they shared as well as the bitter tears they cried. He remembered the Cable Guy's wisdom that always made him feel at ease, Steve Buscemi's sense of humor that brought a smile to his face, Crazy Frog's gentle nature that he shared, Brendan Fraser's devotion to his goal that he respected, as well as the time he had spent teaching Carl martial arts.

Storm clouds circled overheard and began to pour rain, drenching the two weary warriors and washing away the dried blood that covered their nearly unclothed bodies. Sonic was taken aback as he noticed tears start to trickle down Garfield's face amidst the rain drops. Garfield took out his lighter and tried to light his lasagna cigar to calm his nerves, but was unable due to the weather.

He eventually threw them both to the ground in anger. He lifted his gaze and spoke in a shaky voice, "H-Heh... You know, I've trained for so long to kill you, but now that I'm standing before you with a gun in my pants, I just can't bear to make the shot. I take no pleasure in killing you, laddy. I never wanted things to end this way. If I could go back to those peaceful days fighting with the bikers, I would. But this is the only way to achieve peace. Communism is the only justice left in this sick, twisted world of ours! And justice commands that it's my solemn duty to end your life now. God, I really hate Mondays..."

Sonic and Garfield flew at each other again and began to furiously trade punches once more. While neither man had any strength left to spend, they forced their bodies on by pure hatred alone and continued to fight long past the point where they should have given out. There was no longer any grace or strategy to their movements. This was simply a bare-knuckled brawl to the death, no more honorable than any drunken bum's fist fight.

Garfield spat out a handful of his bloody teeth as Sonic's fist collided with his face, and he reciprocated the blow by punching him in his windpipe. Their sluggish fists continued to strike each other until they were both soaked with blood so thick that even the rain couldn't quickly wash it away. Sonic bayed inarticulately at the moon as their crotch cannons fired simultaneously, sending both men flying.

"You and your goddamn Communism can go straight down to hell!" Sonic the Hedgehog spat as he grabbed Garfield by the back of his head and proceeded to pound him in the face with his knee. For the first time in his life, Sonic was devoid of humor. For the first time in his life, he truly understood the meaning of war.

The Communist tumbled across the ground and collapsed into a puddle of mud and bodily fluids. He shakily forced himself to his feet and shot his enemy a look of pure hatred from behind his eyepatch. No matter how hard he tried, he could only see the putrid visage of Adolf Hitler reflected upon his face. Ever since Americageddon when Sonic lost control and embraced his inner Nazi, he now viewed him as no more than a mad, out of control force of destruction. And although he would never admit it, he was absolutely terrified of him.

"I've got a prediction: in five seconds, this is all going to be over. I'm not going to hold back my true strength any longer. Five seconds is all the time I need to kill you and finish this fight. There's still a secret attack I'm hiding that even the Cable Guy hasn't seen before. Care to see it?" Garfield propositioned.

Sonic raised an eyebrow at his bold offer, "That's a surprise. And here I thought I had already seen everything you had to offer. Alright then, come at me with everything you've got! You're gonna need it if you want to stay alive."

Sonic charged forwards and began to rush him with all of his strongest attacks. Garfield, however, seemed unconcerned. When he finally broke into action, his movements completely changed from how they were before. His massive body now swayed elegantly like a used condom wrapper in the wind. He was able to effortlessly avoid every single one of his strikes, contorting himself like an expert gymnast to breeze past his punches and groin shots. The hedgehog's mouth hung agape as he watched the feline swagger past his barrage without a single scratch.

"A punch from the right," Garfield murmured under his breath as Sonic turned face and attacked him again. Just like he had predicted, Sonic threw his prized right hook and he avoided it perfectly. Discouraged, the hedgehog lunged again, his movements now even faster and sharper than before.

"A feint, then a left kick," His enemy again predicted his strategy with unsettling accuracy. Instead of just dodging, Garfield homed in on his location and slugged him to the ground before his attack could even land. Sonic stared up at the portly Ecaflip towering over him in shock. Just what was his secret to surpassing his level of strength so quickly? It was almost as if he was somehow reading his mind. No matter how many different scenarios he ran through his head, Sonic was still unable to find out his secret.

Garfield noted the look of confusion spread across his enemy's face. Assured in his victory, he decided to reveal the true nature of his ability, "This is the final gift that my two senseis, Jon Arbuckle and Larry the Cable Guy, imparted to me. It is the highest level of mastery that a Patriotic Drive practitioner and a martial artist can achieve. If there has ever been a more deadly ability in the history of the Americaverse, I have yet to see it. I broke through the final wall that was holding me back and unlocked a second Drive ability after resolving that I needed to kill you to ensure peace on earth. This power allows me to peer five seconds into my own future without restraint. With the ultimate speed provided by my portals and the ultimate defense from knowing all of your moves beforehand, there is no way that you can possibly win this fight. Tell me why... **「I Don't Like Mondays」**!"

With tears streaming down his face harder than ever before, Garfield dove in for the killing strike. Sonic began to wildly swing his electric guitar in all directions, but his attacks were still no match for the Communist's godly foresight. The outcome of their match was decided in an instant. With a single, decisive slash of his hidden wakizashi, Garfield hewed off both of Sonic the Hedgehog's arms and sent them flying.

The fuckferocious American cried out in pain as his fading life force began to erupt from the gaping wounds in his torso. Garfield turned his back to him, unwilling to watch a sight as cruel as his former comrade bleeding out on the soil.

However, his heart suddenly stopped dead from horror as he heard a single weak, labored voice rasp into his ear from behind, _"B-Behind you, f-fuckface..."_

Garfield was rendered speechless by what he saw. His lips turned colorless, and his face pale. It took every bit of courage he had to stop himself from running away right then and there. Despite the guitar impaled through his stomach, despite the cuts and bullet wounds littered across his body, despite the loss of both of his arms and almost all of his blood, Sonic the Hedgehog still lived. In fact, he still stood proudly before him on both feet.

Despite dealing with an amount of pain that any sane man would think to be unbearable, Sonic was still able to lift his chin and smile, "Was that really it? Is that really the best you've got? Let me let you in on a little secret... _I DON'T NEED ANY GODDAMN ARMS TO KICK YOUR ASS!"_

"I-I don't understand it. Th-th-this can't be happening! I've got to be dreaming! How come, in just five seconds, I see you standing over me victorious? There's still a secret you're hiding from me. I can see it now. Just what is... **「Korn」**?!" Garfield stammered, barely able to get the words out of his mouth.

"You're about to find out, motherfucker. You're about to find out," Sonic the Hedgehog answered in a confident voice.


	29. Break My Heart, Break Your Heart

**MY FRESNO NIGHTCRAWLER GIRLFRIEND AND I HAVE DECIDED TO SPLIT UP. DOES ANYONE KNOW WHERE I CAN FIND A LOVELAND FROG TO DATE?**

The end of the final battle is nigh and the fate of the Americaverse is hanging in the balance. With both Sonic and Garfield in critical condition, who will be the one to survive?

* * *

"...You're a damn fool, Abe. I was wrong to think that you had matured beyond being the timid, sheltered little brat that you used to be. Everything I did, I did out of love for this country! Tupac was wrong to choose you as his successor. You're too weak to lead the United States to greatness!" Larry the Cable Guy scolded his younger brother in an openly hostile voice.

Abraham Lincoln unsheathed his twin kodachi and flew at his brother before he had time to utter another word. Thunder crackled in the night sky as their blades clashed, sending sparks flying in all directions. The Cable Guy was soon overwhelmed by his lightning-fast movements and was sent flying by a gust of wind produced by Lincoln's sword.

He dug his nails into the ground to stop himself as he tumbled across the earth. Honest Abe hovered his blade over Larry's head and began to speak, "You're the fool, nii-san. No matter what your motives were, there is nothing that can justify the massacre that you were responsible for. Now, show me the Patriotic Drive that you're so proud of and fight me!"

Larry the Cable Guy suddenly awoke in a cold sweat. It had been quite some time since he had dreamed about his fateful duel with his brother from all those years ago. The old scars that he received from that battle ached as he thought about it. Jimmy Neutron reminisces about the time he murdered Skeet.

He surveyed his surroundings, finding himself lying in the smouldering remains of the surface of Mark Zuckerberg's floating bank. He then clutched his forehead and groaned in pain, "I remember now. I was fighting that b-ball brat and he suddenly attacked me with one of Washington's Gifts. How positively _irritating._ How did I survive that, anyway? That blast should have wiped me off the face of the earth."

The Cable Guy scaled over the mountain of boiling slag in search of his opponent's remains. He suddenly fell upon his face in reverence as he came face to face with his enigmatic master, _"...M-Meadowlark Lemon-sama!"_

Lemon's body was obscured by the smoke billowing from the ground, but the massive shadow he cast gave away his true identity. His glowing red eyes shone bright through the haze as he turned to glare at his subordination, "Please take care to refer to me by my code name, Agent Globie. I'm glad to see that your wounds weren't fatal. If I hadn't arrived in time and absorbed the brunt of that nuclear blast, none of us would be standing here right now. You did well tracking down our rogue test subject as I ordered, by the way. You should feel proud."

Larry subserviently lowered his gaze and managed a nervous smile, "You are far too kind, my lordship. I am truly in your debt. What brings you to this miserable planet, Lord Benefactor?"

"I was in the vicinity on a special assignment. You needn't worry yourself with it. More importantly, did Charles Darkley survive the explosion?" The Benefactor questioned. Larry looked down at his feet and spotted one of the baller's legs sticking out from underneath a pile of steel girders. He rummaged through the wreckage to find him, but cringed when he saw the miserable state he was in. His body was in such poor condition that it barely even registered as a human's corpse.

He rested his head upon his chest and was shocked to still hear a heartbeat. Larry reached out his hand to rip out the Gift of Washington dwelling within his body, but he was stopped by a shout from his master.

"Enough! There is no reason to terminate his life prematurely. We can still use his body for our purposes. I believe this, too, was preordained by fate. You've already procured Lincoln's remains, haven't you? In that case, recall your Backstreet Boys and leave this place immediately. Have Fidel Castro's Communist scientists reconstruct him before his life fades. I predict that this boy will benefit us greatly in the future," The Benefactor ordered.

Larry the Cable Guy ceased his prostration and watched as Meadowlark Lemon turned to leave. He couldn't help but admire how his master had withstood a full-power attack from Slamzor and had emerged totally unscathed. The Clown Prince's godlike strength was so great that it commanded awe from even his greatest enemies. With Lemon as their leader, the Harlem Globetrotters truly were an unstoppable force of nature that no child of mortal men could hope to stop.

"My lord, wait! You know that I've done all that you've asked of me and have served the Globetrotters loyally for countless generations. I would even die for you if I was commanded to do so. What are my orders now, master?" Larry called out into the mist.

Without turning back to face him, the Benefactor answered, "We've discussed this before, have we not? Your duty is to advance the experiment by any means necessary. I want you to continue pursuing your goal of creating the ultimate warrior to fight for our cause. Procure the Gifts of Washington so that we can create a soldier that not even our enemy would be able to defeat. And when the false gods that control our fate have been vanquished, our sacred duty shall finally be over..."

* * *

Sonic the Hedgehog and Garfield the Cat stood in a field of lycoris flowers, both waiting with bated breath to see who would make the first move. Garfield continued to shake uncontrollably out of fear of what he had seen in his vision. The American standing before him looked to be only seconds away from bleeding out, but somehow he _still_ possessed the strength to utterly annihilate him. Just what was his secret?

"Five seconds. That's all the time I need to finish you, Garfield-san. **「** **Last Resort** **」** is the result of me calling upon the strength of my inner dark side to fight. But what you didn't know is that's only a small part of the beast chained within me. **「** **Last Resort** **」** only represents about a third of my inner Commie. **「** **Korn** **」** , on the other hand, is almost the whole damn thing! I'm going to use the same power I used to kill Adam Sandler to bring you down!" The Communist-Hunter explained. The battlefield fell deathly silent as he knelt down and initiated his second transformation. Even the birds dared not make a sound.

Garfield stood frozen in place as he witnessed the ghastly visage reflected upon Sonic's face. He was instantly taken back to the horrors of Americageddon and the carnage that the American hedgehog caused when he went berserk. So much innocent blood was shed on that night. Even six years later, Garfield still wasn't able to shake the horrific image of Adolf Hitler soaking himself in the blood of his kinspeople as he tore through the American armies without mercy.

 _"Esto el fin, grande gato…_ **Last Resort Stage Two:** **「** **KORN** **」**!" Sonic's body tripled in size as he uttered the name of his forbidden technique. His chiseled muscles shredded his biker jacket as they expanded, allowing his wispy chest hairs to blow freely in the wind. His skin turned pitch black and his veins began to glow with an ominous red aura. A bushy toothbrush mustache grew above his lip and a red swastika spread across his chest that signified his descent into darkness. Finally, a pair of new arms sprouted from his bleeding torso that bore a striking similarity to Adolf Hitler's own saurian appendages.

Cold sweat ran down Garfield's face as the fuckferocious hedgehog lumbered towards him in his new archdaemon-like form. He balled up his fists and snarled, "A-Adolf Hitler... it's Americageddon all over again! Are you really so desperate to defeat me that you'd transform into _that_ monstrosity again? Aren't you concerned with what could happen? Didn't you learn a damn thing six years ago? If you lose your mind again, the United States is finished! We'll all be doomed if you fully transform into Hitler! Are you truly willing to take the chance of destroying the entire universe just to satisfy your petty grudge against me?"

"You bet I am, motherfucker!" Sonic shouted in a deep, throaty voice. Garfield was visibly mortified by his response.

Before he had any chance to react, Sonic leapt into action and unleashed a combination of his deadliest punches and kicks upon him. Garfield weaved through his barrage of enraged pelvic thrusts with the help of his precognitive abilities. However, this time his strategy wasn't fairing nearly as well. With each successive strike, the American hedgehog's punches were infinitely stronger, faster, and sharper. It was only a matter of time before his abilities evolved to the point where even Garfield would be unable to keep up.

Sonic finally landed his first hit by striking the baleful Communist across the face with his pimp hand. Garfield stumbled backwards and nursed his stinging cheek. As much as he hated to admit it, his lack of response wasn't out of being unable to predict his attack. He knew exactly what Sonic was going to do beforehand. Rather, it was because Sonic had achieved such godly speed that not even five seconds of foresight was enough to help him dodge.

The bottomless strength of Adolf Hitler was flooding into the blue hedgehog at such an alarming rate that even Garfield's ultimate trump card was proven to be worthless against it. And even now his ungodly power was continuing to grow far beyond comprehension. The Communist feline was filled with terror, but it wasn't out of concern for his own life. The only thought on his mind was how he could protect the Backstreet Boys from Sonic the Hedgehog's wrath.

"This... this can't possibly be happening! His power is now almost equal with Larry-sama! What will become of the Backstreet Boys if this monster is unleashed upon them? For their sake, I can't let him get past me. I'll take Sonic down even if it kills me!" Garfield thought to himself, more determined than ever before.

Garfield transformed into Garzooka once more and made the first move. He cleared the gap between them in an instant, his bloody fist poised to strike. Sonic effortlessly caught his punch the very second he attacked. He then followed up his attack by driving his knee into Garzooka's abs of steel, sending him flying. Donald Trump develops a bizarre obsession with horrorcore rap.

Fueled by the imperishable fuckflames of George Washington, Sonic chased in pursuit of his enemy while he tumbled across the earth like a ragdoll. Garzooka quickly regained his wits and rolled into another attack. The two weary warriors continued to ruthlessly pummel each other as they darted across the lifeless soil. Garzooka finally landed a good blow by knocking out a fistful of Sonic's teeth, but the hedgehog countered with a one-inch punch to his gullet.

Blood splattered the earth as the two men beat each other senseless. While Sonic had a massive advantage over his opponent in terms of raw strength, he was considerably closer to death than Garfield was. Each of Garfield's fuckraging blows landed that much harder and caused a significantly greater amount of pain because of it. But Sonic was undeterred. He merely shouted at the sky with a black metal screech and continued to beat the living shit out of Garfield. Such was a holy act.

Sonic struck Garfield with his elbow, planting him deep into the planet's crust. Mere seconds after, the man-cat countered by grabbing him by the wrist and smashing Sonic into an impact crater of his own. The hedgehog leapt out with a somersault and repeatedly beat him over the head with his guitar. Sonic then watched as his enemy stumbled across the ground while violently hacking up bits of blood and Pocky.

"Y-You twisted capitalist bastard... don't you realize that this is all your fault? The Backstreet Boys, Americageddon, everything. If you were there when we needed you most, things would have been different! But all you know how to do is run away like a little bitch. You ran away when Barkley died, and then you ran away again six years ago. Where were you when the McDemons attacked and slaughtered everyone? Where were you when Anne Frank needed your support? Where the hell were you when I was left for dead by the enemy? You claim to be the savior of America, but you're damn wrong. You can't save anyone!" Garfield spat, his voice full of contempt.

Sonic merely stood and shook his head. He sighed, "I'm not God. I can't save everyone. I'm just a dumbass with a gun dick that's trying his best to do what's right. You think that I don't regret not being there for you and Anne? I'll admit that I've made my fair share of mistakes. So get the fuck over it already, you whiny-ass pussy. I can't change the past, but I can work to change the future. But if you have your way, America won't have a future! You and your fuckbuddies're putting everything the Biker Brethren worked for in jeopardy!"

"What good did the Biker Brethren do? All they did was needlessly prolong this already bloody war. If they merely laid down their arms like I did, millions of innocent lives could have been saved! Larry the Cable Guy taught me that justice always triumphs in the end. Have you ever considered that the reason America keeps losing the war is that we were the evil ones? Abraham Lincoln was just a warmonger that only fought to atone for creating Karl Marx, and we were all fools for following him. We were the bad guys the whole damn time and never even realized it. Communism _IS_ justice, not capitalism! Don't you get it? The Biker Brethren _DESERVED_ to be destroyed!" Garfield shouted back at him.

In that moment, something in Sonic the Hedgehog snapped. He no longer viewed Garfield as an enemy worthy of his respect. He was simply another dirty socialist that deserved to be ripped to shreds with his daemonic cock. And that was exactly what he intended to do. Determined to fight for the honor of the Biker Brethren, Sonic pushed his body far beyond its limits and dove in for the kill.

The heel of his dinosaur-skin boot collided with Garzooka's face and flung him thousands of feet into the air. The Communist autarch quickly regained his wits and the two proceeded to fight to the death in orbit above Wolfschanze.

Sonic mercilessly pulverized him through thousands of asteroid belts as they continued to duel. Their fists clashed at unimaginable speeds, infinitely faster than the speed of light, and every time their punches made contact it resulted in trillions of supernovae erupting in the vacuum surrounding them. The strength of these two warlords truly was without equal.

"I bet you like to watch other men fuck your wife, you impotent soyboy _MOTHERFUCKER!"_ Sonic spat as he fired off a thermonuclear blast from the head of his gun dick. Thinking quickly, Garzooka retreated into one of his portals before the blast could hit. He then reemerged from behind and delivered a roundhouse kick to the back of Sonic's head.

Sonic, however, was unfazed. He whipped his head around and delivered a barrage of defense-shattering blows to Garzooka's torso. His ribs shattered as the American's fists drilled into his sternum, piercing his lungs and causing him to vomit blood. He then finished his combo with a kick to Garzooka's jaw, breaking it and sending him flying.

Despite his enemy already being beaten half to death, Sonic the Hedgehog's fuckrampage of revenge wasn't done yet. He put Garzooka in a full nelson and descended back into the planet's orbit with his body trapped tightly between his arms. He then shifted into a suplex as they fell through the clouds in a ball of fire. Their descent reached such a velocity that it even produced a sonic boom. The man-cat tried desperately to escape from his sweaty grasp, but was still unable to budge. Sonic finally had him right where he wanted him.

"...Do you wanna know the reason why you lost? It's because you pissed me the fuck off! _GOD BLESS AMERICA!"_ With one final, multiverse-shattering attack, Sonic slammed Garfield's skull into the earth with such force that it split the entire continent into 1,488 pieces. The planet's mantle caved in on itself and geysers of lava spewed out of the ground. The shock waves of his attack rippled throughout the planet, causing an apocalyptic level of destruction the likes of which hadn't been seen since the age of Tupac Shakur.

As foretold in legend, it was **metal as fuck**.

The damage done to the planet's core was so great that Wolfschanze was now only minutes away from total destruction. Sonic and Garfield laid side by side on a half-submerged boulder that was sinking into the planet's molten core. They stared up at the sky, admiring the carnage they had caused in the cosmos. The myriad of worlds orbiting the Wolf's Lair were all likewise collapsing in on themselves, erupting in glorious astral fuckflares of red, white, and blue.

"Fireworks. I've always loved fireworks. I'm glad to see them one more time before I die. I guess everything is returning to nothing. It all comes tumbling down, tumbling down..." Garfield managed a weak chuckle in between his labored breathing. He held his hand to his face to stifle the flow of blood gushing from his grievous head wound. Sonic the Hedgehog held his mouth agape as he watched his enemy stand once more, still willing to fight.

He limped forwards and swung a weak punch that Sonic was able to dodge with little effort. He continued to evade his pitiful attacks for the next several minutes. His power fully spent, Garfield tripped on a rock and fell. And against his better judgement, Sonic reached out his arm and caught him.

"I don't need your goddamn pity!" Garfield snarled. He pushed himself away and stumbled backwards. He then parted his arms, seemingly asking for Sonic to attack him. "Let's prove it then! Let's finally see which of us is right! The Communist Slayer is an enchanted guitar that can only slay those with wicked souls, right? It can't harm an American whose heart is totally pure. If you truly believe that the Backstreet Boys are evil, then strike me down with that guitar! I can guarantee you that I won't be harmed. Maybe then you'll finally understand that Communism is righteous!"

Sonic removed his electric guitar from its leather case as he asked. Without a moment's hesitation, he lunged and slashed at the baleful man-cat with his blade. Garfield cried out like a woman in travail as the blood-soaked guitar dug into his side and cleanly hewed off both of his cybernetic legs. His severed body parts went flying and his shredded body rolled across the ground, gushing blood from the gash in his torso.

"T-There's no way... all this time I was... _w-wrong?_ B-Bakana... we've killed so many innocents in the name of 'justice', but we were the evil ones after all. Ha... I really fucked up this time, didn't I? _God, I really fucking hate Mondays..."_ After witnessing the undeniable truth shown to him by the Communist Slayer, Garfield was truly inconsolable.

His entire world view came crashing down in that instant. Thinking about all of the innocent people he had slaughtered in the name of Marxism made him retch. Garfield looked up to Larry the Cable Guy as his savior, and never once did he consider the possibility that he was leading him astray all this time.

Unable to deal with the harsh truth, Garfield lost consciousness and fell into a comatose state. Sonic the Hedgehog felt only pity for the Communist warlord collapsed at his feet. In his own way, Garfield truly was trying his hardest to save the United States. Everything he did, he did out of genuine love for his country. Larry the Cable Guy preyed upon him while he was at his weakest and filled his head full of lies. He manipulated Garfield every step of the way, corrupting this once honorable man-cat into an unforgiving weapon of Cultural Marxism. Sonic vowed that day that he would never forgive the Backstreet Boys for the atrocities they had committed.

"Why have you stayed your hand? You know it's too dangerous to leave a man like that alive. Kill him. You know it must be done. Kill Garfield now! Give him a heap of raw iron!" The hedgehog cringed as he felt a familiar dark force emerge from behind him and creep up over his shoulder.

"You asshole. I should've known that you were still lurking around in my head somewhere," Sonic groaned. He had tried his hardest to bury him after Americageddon, but his efforts had clearly been in vain. Staring him right in the face was the dark spirit of _Adolf Hitler._

A noisome laugh erupted from the lips of this crude manifestation of his inner darkness. He seemed to take great pleasure as he mocked him, "You fool! You should have know that burying me into your psyche wouldn't work. We're two halves of the same coin. You can't kill me without also killing yourself. Did you really think that you could call upon my power again and that I wouldn't come knocking? That **「** **Last Resort** **」** of yours is quite inefficient, by the way. Perhaps you should just let me fully take control from now on?"

"You can fuck right off, Hitler. You're _MY_ bitch now. I ain't gonna let you control me ever again, y'hear?" He spat. The American then unbuckled his jeans and angrily swung his gun cock in Hitler's direction.

The darkness crept up and enveloped Sonic, shrouding him in a black haze that obscured his sight. Hitler's face emerged from the darkness and continued to taunt him, "Sorry, but that's not your choice to make. Using that new ability of yours, **「** **Korn** **」** , was a fatal mistake. You've unwittingly given me the power to take root in your mind once again. Did you really think that you could use more than half of my strength and that I wouldn't be able to take the rest for myself?" **  
**

Sonic let out a gasp as the lower half of his body began to sink into his void of blackness. Tiny dark hands clawed at him from the shadows and crept up his body. Adolf Hitler was determined to take full control of his body once again, and this time Sonic was powerless to fend him off.

"Goodbye, Sonic the Hedgehog... _forever._ Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Führer!" The accursed Nazi cackled. Sonic was barely able to keep his head above the dark mire he was sinking into. If he didn't do something soon, the man known as Sonic the Hedgehog truly would be no more.

Unable to fully cast his dark presence out, Sonic was forced to take drastic measures. He diverted all of the evil energy flowing into him into a single part of his body. The flesh on his left hand turned completely black as Hitler's spirit poured into it, and soon even the Führer's face and signature mustache sprouted forth from his palm.

Sonic the Hedgehog whipped out his machete and proceeded to furiously hack away at his own wrist. He sliced through the bone with a sickening snap, severing his own hand. The Hitler-possessed hand snarled at him and scuttled around on its fingers whilst screeching godless blasphemies into the night.

"If you want my body so badly, you can have it. Have fun being stuck inside my severed hand for the rest of your life, you Nazi faggot!" Sonic hollered like a drunken hellhound and stuck up both of his middle fingers once more, even though he only had one. He then tore off a piece of his denim jeans and used it to tie off the flow of blood gushing from his arm.

The Hitler hand chased after him as he turned to leave. "You American bastard! Reconsider what you're about to do! Without me, you're powerless! You'll never be able to use your Patriotic Drive abilities again without my power! You'll never be able to defeat the Communists without it! How about a compromise? Joint control of your body is fair, right? Don't you dare ignore me! I am your _GOD!"_ He whimpered pathetically.

Sonic suddenly spun around and kicked him into the river of magma. He spat on the ground to convey his disgust as he watched the last remnants of Adolf Hitler go up in flames. He lit the joint stuck between his lips and chuckled, "Good fuckin' riddance. I wish there was a better way to do this, but at least now I'm completely Communism-free. I'll figure out a way to save my country without your help. I'm going to make America great again!"

"C'mon, buddy. Let's go home," Sonic the Hedgehog smiled as he lifted up Garfield and placed him on his back. The weary American warrior hot-wired a motorcycle he found buried in the ash and slammed his foot on the ignition. They escaped from orbit just as Wolfschanze went supernova, soaring off in the direction of the sun.


	30. Donald Trump Drains the Swamp

**I AM PROUD TO INTRODUCE MY NEWEST SONIC OC, SNEED THE HEDGEHOG (FORMERLY CHUCK)** **  
**

 _Sonic has finally defeated Garfield, but his victory has come at a great cost. Does he still stand a chance against the Backstreet Boys without his Patriotic Drive? And what has become of the rest of the bikers?_

* * *

"Man, don't you think that the early 2000's were the tightest shit? Remember playing Tony Hawk Pro Skater on the PlayStation 2? Remember renting super violent anime at the Blockbuster? Remember when they sold motherfuckin' green ketchup? Remember back when Pluto was an actual planet? Those were some _damn_ good times. My family also wasn't dead back then. Oh, I'm getting carried away again, aren't I? Sorry about that, stranger. I've been feeling pretty nostalgic lately. It's hard to believe that it's already been five years since I lost them," Crazy Frog spoke with a wistful grin on his face. The pantsless frog turned back to Trump and Snow Miser and entered into his signature fighting stance.

"I see that you're a man of taste. I'm a man of taste myself," Donald Trump complimented him with a tip of his fedora. He rolled up his sleeve and set his fist ablaze with flames. Trump then spun around with his famous flaming sabre whilst cackling madly into the red sky. "You lost your family, hm? Sounds like an interesting story. I'd love to hear it over a drink some day. But tonight, we're mortal enemies! Come at me with the best you've got, choir boy. I'm getting all turned on just thinking about making you scream!"

Snow Miser mimicked the heavenly golden dragon by making a rapier out of ice. He made the first move, wildly slashing his sword in Crazy Frog's direction. The amphibian moved with incomparable grace and gymnastic skill as he weaved between every thrust of his sword. The frog then swung his bare leg at the ice daemon, sending him flying across the room. Jimmy Neutron develops a bizarre obsession with "Khazar Milkers."

Donald Trump cracked his knuckles, preparing to lunge at Crazy Frog. Snow Miser flipped back onto his feet and caught him by the wrist before he could leave. He frowned, "Hold it, Heat Miser! Where do you think you're going in such a hurry? I'm not down for the count yet. Ol' Mr. Ten Below's the one who's going to ice that frog just like Master Darkley ordered. You can just lay down and chill while I take care of things!"

"Sto cazzo," Trump rolled his eyes and replied dismissively. He acknowledged his desire to fight Crazy Frog first and took a seat on the sidelines. Unsurprisingly, he looked none too pleased about having his prey stolen from him. Snow Miser tipped his boater to the president in appreciation.

Donald watched as the fuckraging warlords flew at each other and came to blows once again. Snow Miser managed to cut Crazy Frog across the cheek, but he quickly countered by elbowing him through a bulkhead. The snow daemon recovered quickly and rolled into another attack. He leapt into the air and conjured a storm of icicles to rain down upon his mighty foe. Crazy Frog calmly slashed through the salvo of ice with his machete as it rained down upon him, showing no fear.

Snow Miser fell back to the ground and began plotting his next move. He placed his gloved hands on the floor and began to spread his chaos magick throughout the interior of the bank vault. Massive pillars of snow suddenly shot upwards from beneath them, lifting Crazy Frog from the ground and smashing his body into the ceiling.

Not giving him even a second to recover, Miser launched himself at the Backstreet Boy and repeatedly stabbed him with his icy blade. He finished his deadly combination by wrapping his knurled fingers around Crazy Frog's gullet, filling him with the chill of the netherworld and encasing his entire body in a solid block of ice. Snow Miser couldn't help but snicker at the ice sculpture before him and the stupid look frozen on its face. Satisfied, he sheathed his rapier and confidently strutted towards the exit.

A shiver suddenly ran up Snow Miser's spine as he heard a faint voice call out from behind him. "Ars Moriendi: **「It's Raining Men」**!" A dark energy filled the room as Crazy Frog uttered the name of his Patriotic Drive. His icy prison blew to pieces and he shook the frost from his body, looking none the worse for wear. He then thrust his fist into the Miser's stomach and sent him rolling across the ground in a puddle of his own frozen bodily fluids.

A smug grin spread across Donald Trump's face as he swaggered past Snow Miser to stare down his opponent. He chuckled, "What was that you were saying about taking him on yourself, special snowflake? Leave the Backstreet Boys to me. Listen closely, ye' Crazy Frog: you may be a madman, but there's not a single person on this earth that's as insane as I am! I start forest fires. I burn telephone poles. I ignite wires just to watch things explode. I've burned down a Quik Stop and fire-bombed a Denny's. Do you really think your paltry virgin madness can contend with my immeasurable Chad insanity? I'm sickly in love with the heat of the flames, and I'll burn this bitch up all the same — _BIGLY!_ _"_

"Va' all'inferno!" Trump cackled. He produced his flaming blades and launched himself at Crazy Frog, his pulsating muscles now wreathed by a tornado of scintillating fire. Completely assured in his victory, the amphibian remained perfectly still as Trump fired off dozens of his miniature brick walls.

Thunder crackled in the night sky and the ground began to shake uncontrollably as he activated his Drive ability once more. A tidal wave suddenly appeared from Crazy Frog's hands and flew at the hapless American, dousing his flames and grounding him once more.

An unearthly barrier consisting of water, electricity, ice, and 1,488 bits of dust and debris circled around Crazy Frog as he approached. Before Trump could launch his counterattack, the Backstreet Boy drove his fist into the earth and summoned an earthquake that rattled the entire bank. Thinking quickly, Trump tossed Snow Miser over his shoulder and bolted for cover.

The tremendous vibrations continued to ripple throughout the floating monolith's structure. Large sections of the steel infrastructure were upheaved and deafening explosions sounded from all directions. The bank's foundation soon splintered into hundreds of separate pieces, swallowing everything in sight.

It took every last bit of Trump's stamina just to stay ahead of the crumbling ground, and even then he was only barely fast enough to get away. The unholy power at Crazy Frog's command was clearly many times deadlier than any disaster that nature could create.

Trump fled to the roof before the devastating tremors could catch up with him. Still in shock, he turned back to view the unimaginable desolation that Crazy Frog had caused. Zuckerberg's floating fortress was already beginning to lose altitude, and he surmised that it was only a matter of time before it completely caved in on itself. A bolt of lightning suddenly struck the ground directly in front of Trump. The electricity took on a distinctly humanoid shape, revealing itself to be none other than Crazy Frog.

"Since the dawn of time, there have lived many primitive civilizations that viewed Mother Nature as their god. Personally, I can see the logic in their beliefs. No matter how powerful you may be, there is no man alive strong enough to pick a fight with nature. **「It's Raining Men」** allows me to control the weather and influence nature in a way that no other mortal can. Tsunamis, earthquakes, lightning storms, hurricanes... anything that the natural world can do, I can do a million times better! Tell me, American: since I can control Mother Nature, the very force that many view as their god, does that make me a god too?" Crazy Frog asked with a sickeningly smug grin plastered on his face.

"Hmm. An interesting hypothesis. Here's an even more interesting question: when I inevitably burn you to cinders for fun and sexual pleasure, will that make me _more_ than a god?" Trump asked. Crazy Frog's smile vanished as he hearkened upon Donald's insult. Greatly infuriated, he created a ball of lightning in his fists and hurled it at the flaxen-haired dreamboat.

He stood aghast as Trump raised a brick wall that fully absorbed his lethal attack. Donald wagged his finger in defiance, "Tsk-tsk! And here I thought that the Backstreet Boys were wise to all of my tricks. I can create my brick walls in any size, shape, or consistency that I please. I can even have them mimic other materials if I desire. In this case, what your lightning bolt just struck was a wall made of rubber. If you'd be so kind, would you mind throwing yourself over the wall and saving me the trouble, fuckboy?"

"Goddammit, Heat Miser. You really are still the same tricky, whack-ass motherfucker that you've always been," Snow Miser swore beneath his breath. Donald Trump turned his head back to him and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Heat Miser, huh? That's not the first time you've mentioned that name. Darkley-san said something about you wanting revenge on a man named Heat Miser, too. Unfortunately, I must inform you that you're confusing me with someone else. Care to tell me a little more about that man?" Donald asked, his curiosity piqued. He threw up another one of his barriers to keep them both safe while they talked.

Crazy Frog continued to assault the wall protecting Trump and Snow Miser. Much to his chagrin, Donald's spirit bricks would regenerate almost immediately after being destroyed, making the structure nearly impenetrable. Steve Buscemi becomes embroiled in a sex scandal after exposing himself to the green M&M.

Snow Miser sighed, "You really want to know? Well, he was a lot like you. Crazy as hell and dumb as shit. Back during the wars, we were both experimented on by the Harlem Globetrotters. I gained the ability to control ice, and he gained the power to control fire. But while he was a willing volunteer, I was a Communist prisoner of war. We bonded during our time together and he swore that he would set me free. But one day he disappeared and I never saw him again. I waited for decades, but that asshole never kept his promise. I eventually broke myself out with the help of Darkley-sama. From that day forward, I swore that I would kill that bastard one day for all the pain I had to endure while in captivity. But the ironic thing is, their experiments fucked up my mind so badly that I can't remember a damn thing about him. I could be staring Heat Miser in the face right now and not even realize it..."

"So that's who he was, huh? Believe it or not, I used to know that man long ago. You could say that we were rather close. And trust me when I say that he never intended to leave you behind in that place. He had a dream that he was determined to have come true, and he spent hundreds of years in prison because of that dream. If he knew that you were still alive, I can guarantee you that he would have returned to save you one day," Trump assured him.

Snow Miser chuckled lightly, "He had a dream, huh? Well, did it come true?"

Donald Trump solemnly shook his head, "I doubt it. You know, that man wasn't always the psychopathic killer that you knew him as. He once lived a simple life in the country with his wife, Tomoko Kuroki, and made an honest living producing fireworks. That woman was an odd one, you see. She loved fire more than anything else in the whole world. She loved it so much that she would even dance in the midst of the flames without a scrap of clothing on her body. She may have been completely insane, but he loved her all the same. He wasn't quite right in the head himself, so I guess you could say they were made for each other."

"What happened to her?" Snow Miser asked.

After a brief silence, Trump lowered his gaze and continued, "Tragedy struck one day and she was killed in an accident involving those very same fireworks of his that she adored. That man never was quite the same after losing his beloved. After that day, he devoted his life to creating a light show so massive and awe-inspiring that she would be able to see it even from heaven. I bet Heat Miser is still out there somewhere, burning everything in sight to create more of those beautiful flames that she loved. Making her happy was all he ever wanted. That was his dream."

Snow Miser took a minute to process what he had just told him. He eventually rose to his feet and rested a caring hand atop Trump's shoulder, "In that case, I can't blame him. I can't hold a grudge against a man who sacrificed everything in pursuit of his dream. If you ever run into Heat Miser again, make sure to tell him that I forgive him. So, are you ready to finally ice this damn frog?"

"...I'm sure he would be glad to hear that, old friend. As Sonic-kun would say, let's rock the fuck out!" Donald Trump guffawed with righteous laughter. The two mighty warriors smashed down the wall blocking their path and charged directly at Crazy Frog. They combined their elemental powers together and proceeded to ruthlessly pummel the Backstreet Boy into submission.

Trump dashed through his barrage of lightning attacks and socked Crazy Frog in the jaw with one of his flaming fists. He attempted to drive his fists into the ground to cause another earthquake, but Snow Miser froze his arms with a blast of ice before he had the chance. The two warriors then joined hands and somersaulted in pursuit. Both of their strongest kicks came crashing down upon his head at once, nearly splitting the frog's skull in two.

Crazy Frog collapsed to the ground, twitching uncontrollably and barely breathing. The two swordsmen directed their elemental blades to his throat in the exact same instant, both prepared to end his life at a moment's notice. Trump threw back his head and laughed heartily, "Checkmate, faglord. It's a shame that things have to end this way. I rather enjoyed our little chat about early 2000's nostalgia. Alas, this is arrivederci!"

Trump stopped dead in his tracks as he felt the warm sensation of someone breathing down his neck from behind. A dark wind blew past him, and Crazy Frog's unconscious body suddenly vanished in the blink of an eye. Donald turned to Snow Miser, who looked just as baffled as he was. Although he was at a loss as to what had just occurred, Trump couldn't shake the feeling that he had just narrowly survived what could have been his own grisly demise.

Larry the Cable Guy reappeared a considerable distance away cradling Crazy Frog's body in his arms. He narrowed his eyes, surveying the extent of the damage done since the arrival of the Neo Biker Brethren. Not once had he anticipated that Crazy Frog would have been defeated, let alone Garfield and Steve Buscemi. The Backstreet Boys were falling one by one and there was nothing he could do to prevent their inevitable defeat.

The Cable Guy balled up his fists and snarled, "It appears that I underestimated your resolve, Sonic of the Hedgehog Clan. Abraham Lincoln was wise to choose you as his successor. You truly do possess the potential to save the Americaverse after all. For that, you have my respect as a fellow American warrior. Unfortunately for you, I don't intend to let you and your pathetic comrades slip through my grasp again. I'm going to annihilate this entire bank and take all of you down with it. This forsaken world will be your tomb!"


	31. Extra: Garfield Fact File

**THIS CHAPTER WAS WRITTEN AFTER MICRODOSING LSD, SMOKING DMT, LICKING TOADS, EATING PSILOCYBIN MUSHROOMS, AND HUFFING SPRAY PAINT. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU ENJOYED IT!**

Garfield the Cat _(Hepburn: Gaafiirudo za Neko)_ is the apprentice of Jon Arbuckle and one of the founding members of the Biker Brethren. Following the events of Americageddon, he lost faith in the United States and defected to a Communist military faction known as the Backstreet Boys. He's been Sonic the Hedgehog's archnemesis ever since and has clashed with him on multiple occasions. Garfield used to wield a set of alligator nunchucks, but after the timeskip he replaced them with an electric guitar and a gun dick, which were called **「The Patriot Slayer」** and the **「Bolshevik Boner」** respectively. Garfield also speaks in a Glaswegian accent.

Garfield is characterized by his laid-back personality and dislike of Mondays. Unlike his comrades, he is slow to anger and prides himself in his ability to remain calm in any situation. He is also very gentle and compassionate despite being a battle-hardened veteran of the Communist Wars. He generally dislikes fighting and avoids unnecessary conflict, but when forced into action Garfield transforms into an unstoppable force of nature with the power to decimate an entire army.

Garfield is psychically the largest member of the Biker Brethren and has been described by his enemies as being a "lasagna-eating wall of muscle." He even towers over Sonic the Hedgehog with his vast height and saintly girth. Garfield's body is covered from head to toe in orange fur save for the large tattoo of a hammer and sickle upon his back that he got during his initiation to the Backstreet Boys. He used to dress in a flamboyant fashion during his youth, but in his later years Garfield simply wore a bandolier over his bare chest and a tattered pair of blue jeans.

He was abandoned by his parents at a young age and spent much of his childhood fending for himself. Garfield took out his anger over his situation by picking fights with rival gangs on the streets of Muncie, Indiana. These years spent fighting his fellow thugs in pursuit of hollow glory helped him to become strong, and after several years he came to rule over the city's criminal underworld with an iron fist. Garfield later became addicted to the designer drug known as "Lasagna" and almost died from an overdose.

His life changed forever when he challenged the legendary warrior _Jon Arbuckle_ to a duel. Garfield's men were all wiped out and he himself almost lost his life. But in all of his compassion, Jon spared the young feline and offered him a chance to redeem himself. Garfield accepted his offer and joined Jon Arbuckle's dojo with the aim of learning the secrets of his indomitable martial arts style. He trained alongside his fellow apprentice, Nermal, and learned what it truly meant to be a warrior. He also befriended Jon's gay twink roommate, Lyman. Garfield's training convinced him to renounce his wicked ways and he vowed from then on to only use his strength to protect the weak.

Jon Arbuckle was gravely wounded after a battle with the undead warmaster known as Dilbert. To protect the Gift of Washington he possessed from falling into the hands of evil, he split his body into dozens of pieces upon his death. He then ordered Odie, his beloved pet hellhound, to spread his remains across the Americaverse. His noble hound would protect his final resting place until his death several years later.

Unbeknownst to Garfield, Nermal had begun to stray from the path of righteousness. He had been using Jon's fighting style to secretly slaughter countless innocent men, women, and children in order to satisfy his sick armpit fetish. Disgusted by his former friend's actions, Garfield beat Nermal half to death and banished him to the distant hellscape of Abu Dhabi.

Nermal plotted his revenge on Garfield while in exile. He began collecting the corpse of Jon Arbuckle with the intention of using its holy powers to make himself invincible. After catching wind of his diabolical plan, Garfield and his trusted confidant, Lyman, embarked on a manly quest to stop him. Along the way they were confronted by Nermal's team of assassins and commandos. These two fuckfurious warlords defeated every enemy that challenged them with ease and finally arrived at Abu Dhabi.

Enraged by the death of Lyman, Garfield challenged Nermal to a duel and was able to defeat him with the help of Michael Jordan. He recovered the corpse of his master and buried it in a secret location, ensuring that no one could ever abuse its divine power again. Abraham Lincoln had watched over their battle from a distance and was greatly impressed by the raw patriotism that Garfield had exhibited during the fight. He propositioned the man-cat to join the Biker Brethren, an offer which he gladly accepted.

Garfield fought alongside the Biker Brethren during many of the major battles of the Communist Wars. He bonded with the bikers on the battlefield and began to think of them as his second family. He grew especially close to Larry the Cable Guy, the co-leader of this pious fighting force, and was devastated when he heard the news that Larry had been killed in battle. Garfield was instrumental to several of the bikers' victories against Communism thanks to his immense strategic knowledge. He also assisted them by reprogramming a Communist Anne Frank-type android to fight for their cause.

Garfield remained loyal to the Biker Brethren even after America's defeat in the wars, a period where many of their original members deserted them. Abraham Lincoln set out to recruit new members for their elite fighting force and came back with Sonic the Hedgehog. Garfield came to greatly admire the hedgehog's fuckferocious ways and was quick to accept him just as the rest of his allies had. The bikers fought together through many bloody conflicts, losing friends but gaining many new allies along the way.

Garfield fought alongside the Biker Brethren during the battle of Wolfschanze and helped them to finally topple the Communist Empire. However, their efforts all came to naught when Adam Sandler and his army of Anarcho-Communists invaded. The Biker Brethren were destroyed on that fateful night as Wolfschanze went up in flames. In the end only Garfield, Sonic, and Anne Frank escaped with their lives intact.

The surviving bikers went their separate ways and spent the next six years coping with their grief in different ways. Sonic transformed his sadness into righteous anger and chose to take up arms against the enemy as Honest Abe once had. Garfield chose to spend his days protecting his fellow Americans and helping them to escape from Marxist-occupied space. However, tragedy struck again when the Communists gunned down all of the survivors he was trying his hardest to protect. Mortally wounded by the attack and unable to get away, Garfield chose to accept his grim fate.

Larry the Cable Guy discovered Garfield's body in the wreckage and delivered him to safety. He nursed him back to health over several months and even replaced his ruined legs with new, robotic appendages. Garfield felt indebted to the Cable Guy for all that he had done and swore his life and loins to him. On that fateful night, he pledged himself to the ignoble cause of the Backstreet Boys and their goal of wiping out every pocket of American resistance in the galaxy.

Larry the Cable Guy trained Garfield in the art of the Patriotic Drive and helped him to unlock his true potential. Garfield would be forced to use his new abilities on several occasions in his fights with Sonic the Hedgehog. He truly believed the cause he was fighting for was honorable despite all of the heinous acts their group had committed. However, his worldview came crashing down when he was finally defeated by Sonic and struck down with his Communist Slayer.

Unable to deal with the harsh truth of his savior having fooled him, Garfield fell into a comatose state and shut himself off from the world. Whether or not he will ever wake up again remains to be seen.

* * *

 **Dies Irae:  
**

 **「REAL G'S MOVE IN SILENCE LIKE LASAGNA」**

* * *

 **(PATRIOTISM: 3) (SPEED: 10)**

 **(DEFENSE: 10) (DICKERY: 5)**

 **(DEADLINESS: 1) (STREET CRED: 6)**

 **(ABILITY TYPE: MANIPULATOR)**

* * *

Allows Garfield to tear open holes in reality that lead to a pocket dimension of his own creation. The portals he creates are all connected to his dimension like a network of tunnels, allowing him to exit from any location in normal space from another portal. There is no way to access his dimension from the outside without entering one of the gateways he creates.

Garfield prefers to fight defensively and wins the majority of his battles by outsmarting his opponents rather than overpowering them. This is reflected in his Patriotic Drive abilities, as both of them feature a wide array of utility uses while also keeping him completely safe from harm. If he seals himself inside his pocket dimension, Garfield can avoid any attack no matter how devastating it may be. He can then reappear from any location from another portal, granting him the ultimate speed. This ability is nearly impossible to defeat when coupled with **「I Don't Like Mondays」** , making him a powerful foe indeed.

* * *

 **Tell Me Why:  
**

 **「I DON'T LIKE MONDAYS」**

* * *

 **(PATRIOTISM: 2) (SPEED: 10)**

 **(DEFENSE: 10) (DICKERY: 8)**

 **(DEADLINESS: 4) (STREET CRED: 7)**

 **(ABILITY TYPE: MANIPULATOR)**

* * *

Gives Garfield the power of precognition, allowing him to gaze five seconds into his own future without restraint. It functions by bending his perception of time in a small, localized area around himself to view what is going to happen next. Garfield can also change the outcome of fate with his foreknowledge if he can act appropriately within that five second window. Because of this, his visions are more akin to predictions rather than being set in stone.

According to Garfield, his second Drive ability developed fairly recently and even Larry the Cable Guy has never witnessed it. The only way to counter this ability is to move faster than Garfield can dodge within his five seconds of foresight, allowing fate to take its intended course before he can alter it.


	32. Mark Zuckerberg: Soylent Demon

**SUGGESTED LISTENING: "EVERY NIGGER IS A STAR" BY BORIS GARDINER  
**

 _Crazy Frog and Garfield have been defeated and now only two of the Heavenly Kings remain. Will the Neo Biker Brethren triumph against Carl and Steve Buscemi, or will everything they've worked for come crashing down?  
_

* * *

Alex Jones placed one hand upon his crotch and stuck out his middle finger with the other, forming a manly power pose strong enough to send all of the heretical enemies of American freedom and liberty into a frenzy of fuckterror. Steve Buscemi trembled in his stiletto heels like a pot leaf in the Autumn breeze. But for the sake of his allies, he stiffened his back and raised his skinny fists to fight. The water filter salesman couldn't help but guffaw at the socialist's meager show of force.

"You're out of your element, little cuz. I told you that I was the weirdest guy around, didn't I? You may be freaky, but _NOBODY_ is as freaky as me! And now that I've finished rubbing melted butter all over myself, I'm just about ready to go all 1776 on your _GLOBALIST_ ass! Let's see how you'll handle this... Super Female Vitality!" Alex Jones confidently uttered the name of his latest and greatest concoction. He downed the whole bottle in one gulp and its effects began to appear not long after.

Alex Jones's stocky body began to rapidly slim down and he dropped an entire foot in height. A flowing mane of silky auburn hair sprung forth from his scalp, falling down over his shoulders and stopping at his waist. His rugged features softened, his body hair faded away, and his hips expanded outwards. Lastly, a pair of shapely D-cup breasts exploded from his manly bosom to complete his metamorphosis.

Steve Buscemi rubbed his eyes in disbelief, "No goddamn way, this can't be! Alex Jones has just transformed himself into a magical girl! How can some lowly capitalist bastard like you harness the raw power and grace of a mahou shoujo but not me? Nrgh... I'm not jealous at all, dammit!"

The two flamboyant fighters took a step forwards to butt their heads together. They both raised their legs to attack at the same time, clashing their high heels together and sending sparks flying across the room. Steve Buscemi cackled and wailed like a maniac as he flew at his enemy and assaulted him with his strongest attacks. But unlike Drake and Josh, Alex Jones was unfazed by his opponent's bizarre theatrics.

Alex Jones raised her long, hairless legs and struck Buscemi across the face. The wicked socialist rolled across the ground whilst violently hacking up blood and bone fragments. He quickly recovered and lunged again, but was quickly beaten back down by his foe's perfectly manicured pimp hand. Steve Buscemi raised his concealed Glock and aimed it at Alex Jones's face, but it was immediately knocked out of his sweaty grasp by another one of her kicks.

Buscemi moved to attack again, but he stopped dead in his tracks as another earthquake rocked the interior of Facebank. A deafening creaking noise could be heard as the bank's steel infrastructure splintered under the pressure of the bikers' fights and began to cave inwards. A portion of the ceiling suddenly collapsed and several hundred pounds of shrapnel and wires fell from above. The Backstreet Boy attempted to dodge it, but was knocked out cold as a girder swung into the back of his head.

"Well, whaddya know? Guess I didn't need the power of a magical girl to defeat that damn _GLOBALIST_ after all! Still, looks like this goblin's nest ain't got much time left. I'd better go and regroup with the rest of the cuzzes before this place gets completely blown out of the sky," Alex Jones mused as she peered out of one of the port windows. Zuckerberg's floating bank was already beginning to lose altitude, and it was only a matter of time before the thrusters keeping it in air shut down completely.

The bank was suddenly shaken again when the planet below was engulfed in a catastrophic explosion. Alex Jones covered her eyes as a blinding light filled the room. The shockwaves produced by the planetary explosion knocked the bank completely out of orbit, sending it hurtling towards one of the solar system's twin suns. The room began to drastically rise in temperature as the station headed for its fiery demise.

Alex Jones stripped down to her undershirt and tied her commemorative Biker Brethren jacket around her waist. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and sighed, "Jeez, looks like my manly duel with the rest of the Backstreet Boys will have to wait. Drake, Josh, get up! We have to bail!"

Buscemi was roused from his place on the floor by the destruction of the former Communist homeworld. His eyes opened wide with horror as he realized what had just occurred, "N-No fuckin' way... was that Wolfschanze just now? Garfield-senpai was down there! He told me earlier that he was going to fight his final battle with the Communist-Hunter on the surface! Shit... don't tell me that he bought it just like Brendan did!"

"Wait, did you just say that Sonic was down there?" Alex Jones gasped. Before she could probe him for answers, Steve Buscemi passed out again from his open head wound.

The grates lining the floor beneath their feet suddenly began to rumble. The info warrior reeled back in shock as a massive, liquid mass of soy bubbled up from between the cracks and began to flood the chamber. Jones and his comrades were swept away by the soylent flood, swallowed by the globular mass of tofu before they had any chance to defend themselves.

A similar phenomenon occurred in the underbelly of the fortress where Carl Wheezer and Carl Brutananadilewski were fighting. The soylent mass flooded every hallway and room on the bank's top level before finally working its way to their location. Wendy recoiled in disgust as the tidal wave of liquid slop turned a corner and darted straight for them from the other end of the corridor. Hundreds of spindly, malnourished soyboy hands reached out from the heap of semi-intelligent tofu, attempting to grab the three fighters and absorb them into itself.

"Tsk! Sorry about this, Jimmy. Eat gas, motherfuckers!" Wendy shouted as she lobbed one of her chemical bombs at the beast. She strapped on her gas mask as soon as the bomb hit the ground, dispersing a lethal amount of VX gas throughout the room. The bubbling, shrieking monstrosity of soy recoiled from the chemical agent and shrunk back in response. Donald Trump wants to have sex with a Porg.

The two Carl's dove for safety as the soylent hellbeast went berserk. It began wildly flailing its pale extremities around the room, spraying out its juices whilst howling godless blasphemies into the night. A humanoid face suddenly poked its way out of the white mass. It stretched open its gaping maw and vacant eyes before turning to gawk at its mortified prey. The soylent veil covering its head trickled onto the floor, revealing the face of none other than _Mark Zuckerberg._

The mass of tofu moved with him as if it were a part of his own body, resembling a sort of soy exoskeleton. The shapeless entity reformed into a giant, humanoid golem with its head and hands closely resembling those of an archdaemon. The construct lacked legs and its torso merely ended in a puddle on the floor, and it traveled by slinking across the ground like a slug or one of the legendary Communist battle-wyrms of old. It was an unsettling sight to behold.

Zuckerberg stared down at Wendy from inside his soy armor. He contorted his lips into a snarl, _"Nyeeeeeeh!_ Do you goddamn, motherfucking filthy humans have any idea what you've just done?! My glorious Facebook empire is _RUINED_ because of you and your ilk! Once the Communist Underlords learn that the bank that held their entire fortunes has been destroyed, guess who's going to take the blame? _ME!_ They'll tear apart the entire universe if they have to just to have their revenge. So before I die, I'm going to make sure that you fucking peons, you absolute serfs, have a taste of what Hell is like. Backstreet Boys, bikers... none of that matters to me right now. I'm going to _KILL YOU ALL! DIE! DIE! DIIIIIEEEEE!"_

The Zucc reached out his hand and opened a fold in his soy armor, revealing the unconscious bodies of the men he had already absorbed into himself. In addition to Alex Jones and his team, he had also incapacitated Donald Trump and Snow Miser. The soylent organism powered itself upon their vital energy and grew massively in strength with each living creature it fed upon. Needless to say, Mark Zuckerberg was going to be a difficult foe to overcome indeed.

The man formerly known as Jimmy Neutron readied the sword concealed within his pimp cane and rushed at the ZOG lord. He moved with a speed beyond reckoning, slicing his soy exoskeleton into 1,488 slimy pieces. Carl Wheezer then finished his deadly combination by delivering a _Futae no Kiwami_ punch to the socialist's stomach.

Zuckerberg sneered at his efforts, "Nyehaha! Did you really think that would work? Soy is beyond your pathetic human limitations. It can't be cut, burned, or pulverized. It will merely reform and become even stronger than before. And since I have become one with the soy that I love so dearly, there is no way for you to defeat me. I am a _soylent demon!"_

The severed limbs of the soyboy hell-golem gathered back together and reformed just as their master claimed they would. The Zucc brought his monolithic fists down upon Carl, mercilessly pulverizing him into the ground. He then lifted up his unmoving body and tossed him down his throat, adding his strength to his own. Adam Sandler becomes inexplicably obsessed with Eurobeat while ruling as the king of Hell.

Enraged by the defeat of her comrade, Wendy ran at the beast and began blindly firing her machine gun in his direction. Carl joined her to take revenge on Zuckerberg for betraying the Backstreet Boys. But despite their best efforts, the Zucc was able to crush them both with ease. He then threw back his head and cachinnated throatily at their utter despair.

The sound of a motorcycle's roaring engine filled the room, interrupting Zuckerberg right before he could feast upon the two fallen warriors. The hooded figure driving this noble, metallic steed slammed his foot on the ignition and blew past the elite ZOG lord. He swung his heavenly blade right as he passed by him, slicing straight through his armor of soy and digging into the Communist's putrid, necrotic flesh.

Mark Zuckerberg proceeded to caterwaul like a woman in travail as his soy sauce lifeblood spewed out of the gash in his side. The man threw back his hood right as he dismounted from his Harley, revealing himself to be none other than Sonic the Hedgehog.

"Lemme guess. You're Zuckerberg, right? Prepare yourself, you Silicon Valley piece of shit. I came here to fuck this Popsicle stand right up the ass!" Sonic snarled as he readied his Desert Eagle. He rested Garfield's body upon the ground and turned to face the vile socialist reptilian who had inflicted so much suffering upon his pious brethren.

Carl quickly rushed over to his vice-commander's side and began work on patching up his wounds. He wiped the nervous sweat from his brow and pleaded, "Come on, Garf-man! You can make it through this, I know you can! Stay with me!"

Zuckerberg winced as he nursed his grievous injuries. Sonic paced around the room while keeping his steely gaze fixed firmly on his enemy. After judging his opponent's fighting proficiency, he broke the silence, "There's been somethin' that's been bugging me for a while. Just what the hell is your problem, anyway? You've not only tried to kill my homies, but also Darkley's dumbass bunch of misfits and the BSB too. Just who the hell do you serve? What are you trying to achieve?"

"Nyeh! Isn't it obvious? I'm my own master, and I want only one thing: unlimited wealth. I made my fortune by selling weapons to the Communists during the wars. But these days, I conduct business in a different way. Here's an interesting fact: those idiot Commies are always killing each other, leaving their riches behind when they die. And with this bank I get to keep everything they've earned after they get themselves killed. But do you know why I want this money? It's because I have a desire to rule over the unwashed masses! I'll trick them all into selling their souls to my Silicon Valley startup. First I'll dumb them down with social networking, and then I'll brainwash them into abandoning their weak flesh and make them upload their brains into a computer network. And once they're in my VR hellscape, I'll rule over them as a God! And they'll all worship _ME! ME! ME! ME!"_ Zuckerberg ranted, unaware of just how insane he truly sounded.

Sonic unsheathed his Communist Slayer and sliced through the Zucc a second time, barely giving him enough time to get the words out of his mouth. He spat his Pocky on the ground to convey his disgust, "Y'know what? Forget I asked. I knew it was going to be some stupid and gay shit like that before you even opened your lips. I've had a rough day, so you mind just slaying the fuck out of yourself and saving me the trouble?"

Mark Zuckerberg heaved himself across the ground and wheezed, "Ny-nyeh! You... what the hell are you? You're not like any American I've ever seen. You filthy, germ-ridden humans aren't supposed to fight back! This is the first time that anyone has ever spilt my noble blood! Just who the hell do you think you are, challenging your natural superior?!"

"Me? I'm nobody special. I'm just some jackass with a gun-dick that's trying his best to live a life that his son can be proud of. I used to think that I was some great American hero like Lincoln was, but that's not true. I also used to think that I was an irredeemable monster no better than the Commies I hunted, a man so pathetic that he couldn't even save his own friends. But that ain't quite right either. Guess you could say I'm somewhere in between. I'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell!" Sonic the Hedgehog answered him with confidence.


	33. The Escape from Facebank

**MERRY CHRISTMAS! IN THIS SPECIAL HOLIDAY CHAPTER, SONIC THE HEDGEHOG WILL MURDER COMMUNISTS WITH HIS GUN-DICK. JUST AS BABY JESUS INTENDED.**

 _Sonic the Hedgehog has finally returned to put a stop to Mark Zuckerberg's vengeful rampage. Will he and his fellow patriots be able to escape from the crumbling bank, or will Larry the Cable Guy destroy them before they have the chance?_

* * *

"...And then I gave her the Cleveland Steamer! You know what I mean, Garf-man?" Sonic roared with thunderous laughter. He turned around to look at his partner on the back of his motorcycle, who was still in a coma. He pinched his brow and sighed. "Shit, you still not waking up? I thought that would do it for sure. You used to love that story, man."

The thought had crossed Sonic's mind that Garfield may not ever wake up again. The realization that his savior had tricked him into slaughtering countless innocent Americans was sure to have taken a heavy toll on his psyche. It would take nothing short of a miracle for Garfield to ever return to being his normal, easygoing self after their fight. The hedgehog decided to push the grim possibility to the back of his mind and press onward towards his goal of defeating the Backstreet Boys.

Sonic's motorcycle touched down inside of one of Facebank's docking bays. He called out to both Darkley and allies, but didn't receive a reply. Sonic could only assume that they were still embroiled in conflicts of their own elsewhere inside the bank. He tossed Garfield's unmoving body over his shoulder and dismounted, determined to track down Larry the Cable Guy and make him pay for his crimes against the United States.

The fuckfurious hedgehog stopped dead in his tracks when he encountered a familiar face at the other end of the hallway he was walking down. Standing before him was none other than the love of his life, _Anne Frank. Sonic_ dropped Garfield to the ground without a moment of hesitation and planted a passionate kiss upon the android's cold lips. Such is a holy act as ordained by Ron Paul, the patron saint of lovemaking.

Anne Frank nervously lowered her gaze and backed away. She held her hands to her cheeks and blushed, "I-I'm sorry, but I believe that you're confusing me with someone else. I've never met you before in my life, sir. There were hundreds of identical Anne Frank-type androids produced during the Communist Wars. I regret to inform you that I am but the humble servant owned by the master of this facility. P-Please forgive me for disappointing you, sir..."

 _"Sheeeiit._ You think I didn't know that? Of course I knew that you weren't the real Anne," Sonic answered her bluntly. Anne Frank's eyes opened wide in surprise, "W-What?"

Sonic the Hedgehog lowered his shutter shades and shot her the bedroom eyes, an age-old courting technique that happened to be his personal favorite. He answered her in a deep, breathy voice, "Sorry 'bout that. It's just that when I see a fine ass robot bitch like you, I just can't help myself. When I look at that sexy little body and beautiful face of yours, I can imagine our future together. We could spend the rest of our lives together at my seaside villa in the country. Just you, me, and my other wife. I'd treat you right and you'd never want for anything. I can tell just by looking at you that your current master ain't pamperin' you like a fine bitch such as yourself deserves to be. Why not dump that soyim hikikomori and come live with a real Chad like me?"

* * *

"Nyeh! What do you think you're doing, you dumb android bitch?! Shut the goddamn door! You're letting the germs of the outside world flood in! I swear, I should just melt you down like the piece of worthless scrap metal you are!" Mark Zuckerberg screeched in his high-pitched falsetto. He swung a lamp into the back of Anne Frank's head, sending her crashing to the ground. He then winded it back and proceeded to beat the defenseless android while she was down.

He dropped the lamp and furiously dug his foot into her cheek bone. Anne Frank slowly lifted her chin and forcefully smiled, knowing that showing her pain would only infuriate him even more. She had become so accustomed to hiding her suffering that at times she was even able to fool herself into thinking that everything was alright.

"I-I'm sorry, master. I really am worthless as you say. Please forgive me! Please!" She grovelled at his feet, begging for her life. Satisfied, Zuckerberg spat on the ground next to her and turned to leave. She then silently stood and began to clean the mess that her abusive owner had left behind.

* * *

Tears welled up in Anne Frank's eyes as she hearkened upon his offer. Never in her life had another person ever treated her like any more than a mere machine. She had lived as a slave ever since her creation, first to the Communists and later to Mark Zuckerberg. She put up with years of constant abuse from her masters believing that she wasn't worthy of happiness. But for the first time in Anne Frank's life, she had finally met a man who seemed genuinely interested in her well-being.

Taking her silence as rejection, Sonic shrugged and confidently swaggered towards his final confrontation. She turned back and called out to him before he could move out of sight, "Wait! I, um... _thank you._ I'm not sure if someone as lowly as me is worthy of following you. But you're looking for your friends, aren't you? In that case, you should hurry. Master Zuckerberg has already made his move to exterminate all of the intruders. That man is immeasurably powerful, but he does have one weakness. Listen closely..."

Sonic thought back to his meeting with Anne Frank while staring down Mark Zuckerberg. He clenched his fists and snarled, "You bastard. You made Anne Frank cry. That's reason enough for me to want to destroy you. You can beg for your life all you want, but I ain't gonna listen. God forgives, but I sure as hell don't! You're going down, Zuckerberg!"

The unforgiving ZOG lord balled up his soy fists and threw another punch at the American hedgehog. Sonic dodged his desperate attack by somersaulting high into the air and over his punch. He withdrew his machine gun from his vest and opened fire, filling Zuckerberg full of lead while falling. Garfield reminisces about the time he stole Jon's crack pipe.

Much to his annoyance, his soy armor absorbed the impact of his bullets before they could reach their target. The Communist then guffawed in response as he shook them out of his body. Sonic rolled across the ground as he landed, already out of breath from their brief confrontation. His fight with Garfield took a much greater toll on his body than he had realized.

"Looks like Anne was right. The man controlling the armor might be weak, but that soy of his is strong enough to nullify almost any attack. I'll have to cut straight through his shield if I want to damage him!" Sonic grumbled under his breath. He raised his guitar and lunged at his opponent once more. However, the hedgehog's beefy legs gave way from exhaustion and he collapsed to the ground before he could reach him.

Zuckerberg snickered in response, "Nyehaha! Did you really think a miserable human bug like you would have a chance against a shape-shifting reptilian technogogue like myself? Don't make me laugh! Though I must admit that you've given me a great idea. I think it's about time that I finally dismantle that worthless android of mine. Can't have a traitor for a servant, after all. She'll be joining you in Hell pretty soon, kiddo!"

Infuriated by his words, Sonic pushed his body beyond its limits and moved to strike. He swung his guitar upwards and sliced straight through the soy golem's stomach. A tidal wave of soy milk sprayed out of the wound such as ichor from the veins of a god, but Zuckerberg himself was still unfazed. He threw back his head and chortled yet again at the hedgehog's ineffectual attack.

 _"Nyeeeeeeeeeh!_ I told you that the power of soy is beyond all human limitations, didn't I? That said, that attack was pathetic even for a germ-ridden insect like you. I didn't even feel a thing! Have you truly lost the will to live already?" The Zucc sneered.

Sonic still maintained the same smug, shit-eating grin despite his insults. He chuckled, "Weren't you paying attention? I guess you were even more hopeless than I thought you were. I wasn't trying to hit you, jackass. That attack was to set my homies free!"

A massive inferno suddenly blew out of the hole in the soy golem's stomach as if a mighty squib had been set off inside of it. The Zucc recoiled in fear as the scintillating fire spread upwards from the inside, causing his armor to lose its rigidity and melt into a pulpy, white puddle on the floor. Now standing before him was none other than Donald J. Trump, the infernal emperor of crimson flames.

Mark Zuckerberg raised his skinny fists and began to beg for his life, but his pitiful requests were ignored by the heavenly golden dragon. _"Ciao, fuckboy!"_ Donald Trump cackled as he thrust his flaming fist into Zuckerberg's face, blowing his entire skull out through the back of his head and sending it flying into the distance. His lifeless body then fell limply to the ground and dissolved into a pile of soybeans. Just as the legends had claimed, he truly was more soy than man.

"Nice work, dicksleeve. Though I totally could have slayed the fuck out of that trippin' honkey without your help," Sonic folded his arms and chuckled.

Trump merely rolled his eyes as he went to try and rouse their unconscious team members. "You're quite welcome, Mr. Hedgehog," He replied sarcastically.

Sonic stumbled across the metal floor as the bank was yet again shaken by another explosion. Dust and debris rained from the ceiling and all of the lights switched to a dim, red coloring as the fortress initialized its backup power generator. Wendy leapt backwards with a shout as a heap of half-melted metal trusses fell down from above and landed at her feet, nearly crushing her.

"Looks like that's our cue to withdraw. Are you ready to rock the fuck out, Sonic-kun?" Donald Trump asked with a sly, lusty grin plastered across his face. Sonic smirked and beat his fist against his partner's own, "Hell yeah, motherfucker!"

The two fuckfurious warlords both threw their strongest punches in the exact same instant, blowing a hole straight through the avalanche of debris that blocked their path. Their escape route now cleared, the Neo Biker Brethren ran straight into the roaring inferno surrounding them and began to blaze a path to safety. Alex Jones carried Jimmy Neutron's unconscious body on his back, Carl held Garfield and Steve Buscemi in his arms, and Wendy and Snow Miser carried Drake and Josh respectively.

Sonic and Trump led the charge, destroying everything in their path with a maelstrom of groin-cannon shots and blasts of fire. They weaved through the explosions occurring all around them and leapt over countless fissures in the ground on their path to the highest level of the floating city.

Donald Trump raised one eyebrow in surprise as he turned back to gawk at Alex Jones's new appearance. "Alex Jones-san, something seems different about you. Have you always had such massive breasts?" Trump questioned the water filter salesman, unsure of the answer himself.

After scaling a particularly arduous flight of stairs, the bikers finally emerged onto the roof of Facebank. However, waiting for them just outside the door was none other than the mightiest of all the members of Communist nobility — _Larry the Cable Guy,_ first son of Tupac Shakur and the older brother of Abraham Lincoln.

Sonic the Hedgehog unsheathed his electric guitar and assumed his signature kempo stance, prepared to lunge at him at a moment's notice. Donald Trump likewise produced his flaming swords, Alex Jones tossed back one of her strength-enhancing formulas, Wendy readied another handful of her chemical bombs, and Snow Miser formed his frozen rapier using Ice-Make magic.

Sonic raised his hand to signal his comrades to stand down. The Communist-Hunter narrowed his gaze and spoke in an uncharacteristically serious tone, "...We meet again, Abraham Lincoln's brother. What did you do to Charles Darkley?"

The Cable Guy seemed shocked at first that Sonic had learned about his true identity. He quickly regained his composure and answered him, "My, my, my, my, my. I take it that Garfield told you about that, hm? What a positively interesting turn of events. I never would have anticipated that the vice-commander of all people would fall in battle. It appears my Heavenly Kings have been utterly outclassed. But you should understand that my strength alone surpasses all of them combined. Just as my heritage would suggest, I am every bit as strong as Lincoln was during his prime. Darkley learned this the hard way. It's unfortunate that he cannot be here to witness your demise..."

"You... you _killed_ him?" Sonic stammered in disbelief, barely able to get the words out of his mouth. Larry the Cable Guy gave a weak nod in response. The four members of the Dark Phoenix Suns lowered their heads out of grief. Wendy dug her nails deep into her palms and swore under her breath, lamenting that she was unable to save their leader.

"Darkley..." Snow Miser whispered his name, choking back tears. Despite all of the heinous acts that he had committed, those who followed Sir Charles viewed him as their savior.

There was no place in the Americaverse for Communist outcasts who had been driven away by their own kind. They were utterly despised by both their own race and the Americans. Charles Darkley gave these outcasts and exiles a second chance at life when the world abandoned them, and for that they were all eternally grateful. They swore their lives to this daemonic baller and vowed to help him overthrow the Communist Empire even if it killed them.

But in the end, Darkley abandoned his true goal and was destroyed in his quest for vengeance. The past that he had tried his hardest to repress led to his own demise. He was ultimately unable to stop himself from seeking revenge against the Harlem Globetrotters for how they had mistreated him, and he was also unable to stop himself from saving the adoptive father he had claimed to hate. Although they were two entirely different people, Charles Barkley's noble spirit lived on in Darkley and fought for justice right up until the moment of his death.

"Wendy, Drake, Josh, everyone... I want you to escape with Trump and the rest, alright? I'll stay behind and keep him occupied. Leave Larry the Cable Guy to me!" Snow Miser spoke with a voice full of confidence. Just behind Larry a single, solitary cruiser could be seen docking onto the scorched tarmac. Piloting it was none other than Zuckerberg's Anne Frank android, who could be seen gesturing the weary fighters to come aboard before the Cable Guy could notice her presence.

"What on earth are you talking about, you big ham? I don't intend to leave you alone in the bowels of Hell again. If you're going to sacrifice yourself like this, then I'm going to remain by your side!" Donald Trump asserted. He folded his arms and stood right beside him, staring down the Backstreet Boys' monstrous leader without fear.

Snow Miser turned to Trump and shook his head. "Forget about it, hot-head. You've already sworn your life to the cause of another, haven't you?" He chuckled, staring in Sonic's direction. Donald lowered his gaze, unable to deny what he had said.

He continued, "Go to him. And promise me that you won't fail like I did, alright? I may have failed to protect my master, but it's not too late to help that man achieve his dream. And no matter what happens, don't you dare look back and grieve for me. Only the truly strong can choose how they die. My sacrifice isn't something that should be pitied or lamented. It's simply a testament to my strength and undying resolve! But I doubt I can last much longer than five seconds. Is that enough time, Heat Miser?"

Trump silently nodded his head in response. The proud Communist lunged at Larry with his sword in-hand as his comrades made their escape. Sonic bowed his head out of respect as they made their way aboard the cruiser. Donald Trump kept his gaze directly forwards just as his friend had requested, not looking back even as his pained screams echoed throughout the night sky.

"I'm Mr. White Christmas, I'm Mr. Snow! I'm Mr. Icicle, I'm Mr. Ten Below! I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, and that means _no niggers allowed!"_ The Miser sang his jaunty show tune as he assaulted the Communist autarch with his strongest attacks. He conjured hundreds of his snowy minions to fight alongside him, but they were all instantly obliterated by Larry the Cable Guy and his indomitable martial arts.

He swung his prized right hook in retaliation and effortlessly punched a hole straight through Snow Miser's chest. But despite the blood gushing down his face and torso, he continued to fight in Charles Darkley's memory.

Larry brought his meaty fists down upon him once more, destroying half of his face and sending his hat and cane flying. Snow Miser shakily raised his fists and prepared to make one final attack before his body could give out.

He charged as fast as his legs could carry him, shrugging off the 1,488 bullets that the Cable Guy fired at him to slow his advance. He finally landed an attack by cutting Larry across the cheek with his glacial dagger. Larry made no attempt to dodge as he did so, accepting his final strike out of respect for his opponent's resolve.

 _"Haha... I'm too much..."_ Geysers of blood suddenly exploded from every orifice in Snow Miser's body. Having finally reached the limitations of his weak flesh, the light fled from his eyes and he collapsed to the ground, dead. Larry wiped the cartilage spray from his face with his shirtsleeve, his hands too heavy with the blood of his enemy to be used to groom himself.

He closed Snow Miser's eyes for him out of respect and whispered into his ear, "You should feel proud. You may have fallen in battle this day, but your selfless actions delivered your allies to safety. As one Communist to another, I commend you for your heroic sacrifice. Perhaps these bikers pose a much greater threat to the plans of our benefactor than I originally anticipated. I shall no longer view them as mere vermin. The next time our paths cross, I shall treat them as I would any other worthy opponent and crush them without mercy."

"What an amusing turn of events. _Subarashii..."_ Larry the Cable Guy finished with a sardonic laugh. Carl ran to his master's side, his piercing gaze directed at the void above and the cruiser moving quickly out of sight.

"Ay, Cable-man! Dose friggin' American bastards are about to escape 'dere. So uh, we gonna slay the fuck outta 'em or what?" He asked. Carl began charging one of his signature death beams in the palm of his hand, ready to blow the vessel out of the sky when his master gave the order.

Larry the Cable Guy rested his hand upon the Heavenly King's shoulder and shook his head. He lowered his gaze and cracked a mirthless grin, "Leave them. They've earned their victory. Let the capitalists enjoy this brief moment of success while it lasts. Besides, we've already obtained what we came for. Load the Lincoln Memorial and our wounded soldiers on our flagship and prepare to disembark!"

The bikers peered out of the vessel's port window and watched as the bank collided with the sun. Although the side of America had been victorious, Sonic couldn't help but feel as if they had lost something irreplaceable that day.

He sighed, "It's a damn shame about what happened to Charles Bar- I mean, Darkley. I tried my hardest to redeem him, but I guess you can only save those who want to be saved. Just when I thought I was getting somewhere, he turned on me and nearly got everyone killed. Guess it was wishful thinking to have ever believed that I could save him from himself. The Barkley I knew really is gone for good."

"You're wrong," Wendy said, speaking up for the first time since their escape. "I don't know about the circumstances that caused him to turn on you, but Darkley never stopped caring about you and the bikers. He defied his programming to destroy all Americans by calling upon your aid. Our alliance together wasn't out of necessity. He simply wanted to reconnect with you again, and that was the only way he knew how. You were the man he respected the most, Sonic. He loved you right up until the bitter end."

"You really mean that?" Sonic asked, standing in disbelief. A single patriotic tear trickled down his unshaven face as he thought back to his last meeting with Barkley before his passing.

* * *

Sonic stood, and his untrimmed chest hair fluttered wildly in the wind alongside his son. He turned to tearfully embrace the child of Michael Jordan, "Will I ever see you again, kid?"

The baller stroked the stubble upon his chin as he thought. "Probably not. But who knows? That George Washington, he works in ways we can't even comprehend. Take care of our stars and stripes, alright? I've really come to love this world in my short time on it. See you around, Defender of America," Charles Barkley spoke his final goodbyes with a tremulous smile.

His body then dispersed, vanishing into the ether to join his mother and father in the hallowed realm of the White House.

Sonic held Barkley's signature Spalding basketball close as he gazed out into the infinite expanse of the Americaverse. He then raised it up to the sky and shouted, "Somehow, somewhere, I'll see you again, Charles Barkley! That's a promise!"

* * *

Sonic held the scorched remnants of Darkley's basketball jersey to his chest as he reminisced about their time together. He turned away from his allies to hide the tears trickling down his face, "See you around, kiddo. It's been an honor fighting by your side. I was glad that our paths could cross again even if our time together was brief. _God bless America..."_


	34. Breaking of the Backstreet Boys (Pt 1)

**YOU MUST BE 7 FT. OR TALLER TO READ THIS FANFICTION. NO MANLETS ALLOWED!**

 _Garfield's faith in Larry the Cable Guy has been shaken following his defeat at the hands of the Communist-Hunter. What will become of the Backstreet Boys now that their vice-commander has learned the dark truth about them?_

* * *

 **AGE 1488 B.A. (YEAR OF THE PUKWUDGIE)**

"...Me, a fool? You're the only fool here, Lincoln! This sinful country of ours is beyond redeeming. Do you really think that destroying the Communists will save the United States when it's already rotten to the core? There are far too many Americans whose hearts have turned completely wicked, those totally undeserving of life. I will baptize the universe with the blood of these sinners so it may finally be clean! That's the only way to end this war!" Larry the Cable Guy spat as he lunged at his younger brother once more. He assaulted Lincoln with a speed beyond reckoning, using the teachings of Tupac Shakur against him as he fought.

Abe Lincoln unsheathed his side-mounted wakizashi and proceeded to clash blades with Larry the Cable Guy's massive zanbatō. Abe sliced straight through his brother's unwieldy sword as he brought it down upon his head, hewing off the edge of the blade. Greatly infuriated, Larry discarded his shattered sword and attacked him with his indomitable _"ansatsuken"_ fighting style.

In that moment, Lincoln's visceral fuckfury exploded in a frenzied shitrage of patriotic indignation. He clasped his hands together as if praying, calling forth the full power of the godly ichor coursing through his veins. The freedom-loving mystagogue was then bathed in a supernatural aura of red, white, and blue as he summoned the power he had spent the past several centuries training to master.

The clouds overhead circled ominously around the president and thunder crackled in the night sky. Larry was shaken to his core, mortified that his brother's strength had already eclipsed that of any child of mortal men and was still continuing to rise. The maw of the heavens suddenly opened wide and showered Abraham Lincoln's body with the purifying, all-encompassing light of a seraphim. The light cleared, and his muscles now pulsated with the holy light of George Washington's grace and a storm of debris circled around him as he levitated above the ground.

Larry the Cable Guy stiffened his back and forced himself to challenge his opponent despite his abject terror, "Is that supposed to scare me, brother? You should know that I have not only mastered the 'Patriotic Drive' that you created, but I have also perfected it. Your paltry strength is nothing compared to mine!"

Lincoln parted his rosy lips and spoke in a voice that could only be compared to the chanting of angels, making all of the Cable Guy's hairs stand on end, "How wrong you are, my foolish brother. What you are about to bear witness to is the _wrath of god in all its fury._ And what power does a fallen angel like you have over the miraculous strength of the divine? If only you hadn't made an enemy of me, perhaps you could have survived to make your twisted dreams for the Americaverse into reality. But I'm afraid that your life will be coming to an end here. You're no brother of mine, Larry. For your crimes against both our late father and the United States, I judge thee... _guilty!"_

"Judgement Day: **「Burnin' Holes in the Eyes of Abraham Lincoln」**!" After a long silence, Lincoln parted his praying hands and uttered the name of his Patriotic Drive.

Larry the Cable Guy's confident smirk faded away as the ground began to palpitate wildly under his feet. Day suddenly turned to night as the sun eclipsed the moon, casting an unearthly red glow down upon the earth. The shimmering lake silhouetted behind them turned red with blood and all of the foliage in the area withered away, transforming this once lush forest into a desolate wasteland barren of life.

The stars lining the heavens lost their luster and began to plummet, erupting in balls of fire on their descent that strafed the planet. The unquenchable flames of hell billowed and danced in the night sky, washing over this forsaken world and utterly annihilating all in their path. Overcome with fear of the cruel judgment his brother, Larry turned face and ran as fast as his legs could carry him in search of salvation.

But try as he may, there was no escaping the divine fury of Honest Abe. Fire and brimstone rained down upon him, setting his flesh ablaze and blowing his body to pieces. _Abraham Lincoln had just invoked Armageddon, and there would be no stopping his wrath until the entire planet had been reduced to ash._

After several days of absence, Abraham Lincoln finally returned to the Biker Brethren's camp hidden deep within the far reaches of American space. All of the members of this elite fighting force surrounded him as his motorcycle touched down on the soil, eager to hear how he and his brother's latest attack against the Communists had fared.

Michael Jordan rushed to the front of the crowd to greet Lincoln, "Father! Thanks goodness that you are well. After we lost contact with you, many of us had begun to fear the worst. But I held out faith that you would never succumb to the enemy. Pray tell, where is Larry-san?"

Lincoln solemnly shook his head and brushed past his son without speaking. Despite Larry the Cable Guy having betrayed both him and his country, Honest Abe still couldn't bear to tell his men the horrible truth of what had really happened that day. Unwilling to tarnish his memory and bring further grief upon the Biker Brethren, he invented a comforting lie to tell them.

"I'm sorry, but there's no easy way to say this. Larry the Cable Guy is no longer with us. He gave up his life fighting the Communists two days ago. He died a warrior's death and was instrumental in our victory. My brother may no longer be with us, but we shall never forget the brave sacrifice he made for our country. We're going to continue to fight this war in his memory until America has been reborn!" Lincoln declared.

The founding members of the Biker Brethren all lowered their heads out of respect for their fallen commander. Michael Jordan rested his hand upon Garfield's shoulder, comforting the obese man-cat as he wept over the death of his close friend. He wiped the bitter tears from his face and let out a long, hard sigh, "There's no way... he's really gone, isn't he? That bastard... who does he think he is, leaving us without even saying goodbye? God, _I really hate Mondays..."_

Unbeknownst to Lincoln and the Biker Brethren, Larry the Cable Guy had survived his crushing defeat. His mangled, broken body drifted through the endless blackness of space for days on end before finally making its way to a hospitable planet. He had sustained countless wounds that would have killed any lesser man, so many that any sane person would think the pain to be unbearable. Despite having lost all of his skin, half of his limbs, and his skull being so badly damaged that he had to hold his head together just to keep his brain from spilling onto the ground, he continued to desperately cling life.

Larry willed himself to continue living by pure hatred alone and clawed his way back from the brink of total destruction. He rebuilt his ruined body from the scant remains of his necrotic flesh and the primitive tools available to him thanks to his expertise in cybernetic technology.

By all accounts, there was no logical way that he ever should have survived his injuries. Even the most advanced medical technology available couldn't have enabled him to live, let alone make a full recovery. But yet he defied all logic and did the impossible. Some believe that the Cable Guy didn't survive his fight with Abraham Lincoln at all and had merely transformed himself along the line into something distinctly inhuman, existing in a state that was neither alive nor dead.

Larry the Cable Guy spent the remainder of the war lurking in the shadows, waiting for the day when his brother would make a lapse in judgement that would cost him his life. And after the events of Americageddon and Abraham Lincoln's tragic death, he finally emerged from hiding and began work on assembling the ultimate squad of socialist commandos: _The Backstreet Boys._

With his own twisted version of his brother's Biker Brethren at his side, Larry began work on achieving his dark vision for the United States while crushing all of those who stood in his way. But little did he know that one of his own men would eventually lead to his downfall...

 **AGE 2010 P.A. (YEAR OF THE TIGER)**

"Larry the Cable Guy... that no-good, heartless Commie _MOTHERFUCKER!_ Get your bitch ass out here and face me, you cock-gobbling pinko bastard!" Garfield screamed at the top of his lungs in a fit of rage. He rampaged through the Backstreet Boys' base with his chainsaw nunchuks in-hand, shredding apart everything in his path as he made his way to the Cable Guy's personal chamber. His comrades piled on top of him to try and slow his advance, but he quickly shook them off and continued.

Larry the Cable Guy sat with his legs crossed in front of an idol of Karl Marx, deep in prayer. Garfield's chainsaw sliced through the Shoji doors leading inside and scattered dust and debris all throughout his room of prayer, but he ignored the humming saw blade and continued to meditate. Donald Trump's diet consists entirely of "Goobers" and "Clark".

After a time, Larry opened one eye and turned to stare at Garfield. He smiled peacefully and spoke in a voice completely free of malice, "My, my, my, my, my. Such hasty action was unnecessary, my child. The door was already unlocked. I am glad to see that you have finally woken from your coma. And your new cybernetic legs seem to be serving you well, too. You're a very fortunate man to have made such a speedy recovery. What can I do for you, vice-commander?"

"Cut the shit, Larry! You know why I'm here," Garfield snarled. He clenched his fists and turned away from him, so disgusted by the actions of his master that he couldn't even bring himself to look him in the eye. "Did you think that you could hide the truth from us forever? During my battle on Wolfschanze, Sonic showed me the truth about you. You've fooled us all into believing that we were fighting to save this country, that we were fighting for the side of true 'justice', but that's not true at all. What the Backstreet Boys are doing is _evil!_ We were the villains this whole goddamn time, and you brainwashed us into believing that everything we did was righteous! I've slaughtered so many innocents because I believed in your mission. Just thinking about it makes me sick. If I'm mistaken, then please tell me that I'm wrong. Tell me your plan to save this country so that I can understand!"

"P-Please... tell me I'm wrong. _Please!"_ Following his impassioned rant, Garfield's murderous anger faded away and was instead replaced by inconsolable grief. He fell to his knees and began to weep gently upon the ground. He shed tears before his master not out of desire to regain his faith in the Backstreet Boys, but rather because the truth about him was so horrible that he would never be able to continue living with the guilt of what he had done in Larry's name. Even now it was gnawing away at his mind, threatening to drive him mad.

"You must understand that I've never once lied to you, Garfield. I told you that I was going to save America, didn't I? I never said anything about saving _Americans._ I suppose that in the eyes of some unenlightened individuals, our mission could be misconstrued as being evil. But I do not believe this to be so. Before there can be salvation, there must always be... absolute destruction!" Larry admitted in the same placid voice. Garfield keeled over and retched as his worst fears were confirmed.

The Cable Guy knelt down and lifted up the feline's chin with one finger. He spoke to him in a stern tone, like a parent scolding a child, "Come now, my son. Did you really believe that saving the world means saving _everyone?_ This world contains too many beasts, too many devils. Those who absolutely do not deserve our salvation! There's no reason to feel any pity for the unwashed masses that you have slain. My brother was too weak to see the truth as I see it. He genuinely believed that he could bring peace to both races and save the Americaverse without bloodshed, and he tried to destroy me when I told him that I believed otherwise. But look where his foolish dreams got him. For America to be saved, a massive sacrifice is necessary! I'm sure you already understand this. So, why have you chosen to let it weigh on your conscience now?"

"I-I still don't understand. Just what the hell is it that you're trying to accomplish? What goal were you trying to achieve that was so horrible that your own brother tried to kill you over it?" Garfield asked him in a hoarse voice.

"Must I spell it out for you, my child? Americans, Communists... it makes no difference to me. They are both equally responsible for this war that has been ongoing for millions of years, a war that shall ravage our beautiful country until nothing remains. The races that populate the Americaverse are the very cancer that is destroying it. I'm doing what I promised, aren't I? The only way to stop this endless cycle of destruction is to purge both the Americans and the Communists. A chosen few will survive to repopulate, of course. But the majority will die so that this beautiful country that I adore can be reborn anew. I am going to end this war! I will be the one to make America great again!" Larry the Cable Guy answered, finally admitting the horrific truth behind the Backstreet Boys' mission.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Garfield unsheathed his chainsaw nunchuks and lunged at the Cable Guy. But before he could land even a single blow, Larry beat him back down to the ground with his bo staff. He then drove the tip of his steel-toed boots into his side and sent him flying through a wall.

"I never thought that my own flesh and blood would betray me. But I forgive you, Garfield. I know you raise your fist against me out of confusion, not hatred. That American hedgehog has turned you against your own family, hasn't he? How utterly irredeemable of him," Larry sighed. He parried all of the feline's fuckfurious blows with ease, not even exercising a tenth of his strength in doing so. Abraham Lincoln's sibling truly was every bit as monstrous as the great American heroes of old.

Garfield cried out in pain as Larry socked him in the gut and sent him hurtling across the floor. He wiped the blood from his chin and lunged at him again, now utilizing the strength of **「I Don't Like Mondays」** to predict his opponent's moves. The Cable Guy raised his own speed to outmaneuver his precognitive abilities, allowing him to continue pulverizing him with ease. He finished his savage onslaught by delivering a barrage of lightning-fast punches to Garfield's spine, sending him flying back out of the door he entered from.

The rest of the Backstreet Boys watched in horror as Larry the Cable Guy mercilessly beat their vice-commander into submission. Crazy Frog recoiled as he lifted up Garfield by his neck and raised his trembling body upwards, threatening to cave in his windpipe with his vise-like grip. Jimmy Neutron won't stop talking about how he hates Nocoiners.

He tightened his grip around Garfield's throat and began to lecture him once more, "Reconsider what you're doing, vice-commander. You should know doing this hurts me far more than it hurts you. I'll admit that I used all of you to further my goals. For this plan of mine to work, I needed an army of exceptionally strong Patriotic Drive users to help exterminate those standing in my way. But who are you to judge me for misleading you about your true mission? I gave you a purpose, a higher calling! I gave you a role to play in this story called 'life' when you had none! Where do you think you would be now if I hadn't came to you and made you part of my family? If I hadn't killed your loved ones and forced you to walk this path, all of you would still be eking out a miserable existence on the fringes of space, wasting your potential as the world's greatest warriors by living peaceful lives. _I'm the one who made you who you are!"_

"W-What? Tsuyu, Pepe... you _killed_ them?" Crazy Frog stood aghast, barely able to get the words out of his mouth. His lower lip trembled and tears began to stream down his face as the horrific realization overtook him. Larry's eyes widened with shock as he realized that the Heavenly Kings had paid witness to their entire dispute. However, his look of fear soon faded away and he returned to appearing just as dignified and composed as he always was.

Crazy Frog stared up into his master's shimmering eyes expecting to see even a hint of pity reflected upon his face, but there was none. From the bottom of his heart, he truly did not regret anything that he had done.

Garfield shot the man responsible for crippling him and slaying his friends a murderous glare, "You're even worse than I thought, Larry. I've never despised someone so much in my entire goddamn life. What does it take for a man to become so utterly rotten to the core? Do you even have a heart?"

"A heart? No, my brother destroyed that. And if you were referring to my emotions, I removed those long, long ago. If you are expecting me to apologize, then I regret to inform you that I am not sorry for anything that I have done. Take solace in the fact that their deaths were for the righteous cause of ending this war and bringing peace to America. That's just how it is on this bitch of an earth," Larry the Cable Guy answered him in a completely flat, emotionless tone.

The monstrous Communist autarch stood his ground as all of his former subordinates lunged at him at once. Steve Buscemi opened fire with his machine gun, Garfield swung his chainsaw towards his head, Crazy Frog launched a massive bolt of lightning in his direction, and Carl assaulted him with the divine power of the Foreigner Belt. Larry, however, was still completely unfazed. He sent them all flying into the distance with a mighty kiai shout, fending off all of these musclebound warlords without so much as lifting a finger.

"Don't get up again. I don't want to have to destroy you all. You're my family! We may not share the same blood, but I love you all the same. I chose you as my children and nothing will ever take you away from me. Stop this madness at once!" The Cable Guy pleaded. The Heavenly Kings were shocked by how genuine his plea sounded, but their resolve was unshaken. They merely threw themselves upon him and unleashed their strongest attacks once more.

Garfield spat his half-chewed stick of Pocky upon the ground to convey his disgust. He snarled, "Family? Give me a fucking break! You tore us away from our loved ones and transformed us into your personal weapons of mass destruction, and you have the nerve to call us your family? I had a real family once, but I turned my back on them like a damn fool. I wasn't sure on how I could repent for all the horrible things I've done, but now I see what I must do. _I'm going to rejoin the Biker Brethren even if it kills me!"_


	35. Breaking of the Backstreet Boys (Pt 2)

**FOR THE BEST FANFICTION READING EXPERIENCE, PLEASE CONSIDER DOWNLOADING THE HD TEXTURE PACK AND INSTALLING THE NUDITY MOD MADE BY "VEGETASONIC1997." NOTE THAT THESE MAY NOT WORK ON OLDER GRAPHICS CARDS.  
**

 _Garfield and the Heavenly Kings have turned on Larry the Cable Guy after learning the dark truth behind his motives. Will they succeed in stopping their master's plan for intergalactic genocide, or will he eliminate them before they have the chance?_

* * *

"Everything I did, I did out of love for America. Can you really fault me for being a patriot, vice-commander? To fix a building that was built incorrectly, you must first tear it down. That's just common sense. Trying to repair something that's already rotten to the core is naught but a fool's errand. And that's precisely what I plan to do to this country! I'm going to wipe away this sinful civilization so that the Americaverse can be born anew!" Larry the Cable Guy bellowed as he lunged at Garfield. He moved with a speed beyond reckoning, delivering bone-crushing blows to each of his subordinates as he blew past them.

Larry finished his combination of savage strikes by driving his fist directly into Garfield's torso. The pudgy man-cat dodged at the last second, but not before the impact of his immeasurably powerful right hook could scrape away the flesh on his side. Garfield caterwauled in pain and fell to his knees, using his hands to stifle the tidal wave of blood gushing from his shredded diaphragm. Garfield won't stop complaining about his Eurasian Hapa heritage.

He shuddered at the realization that his attack would have bored a hole straight through his torso if he had let it connect. Gone was the gentle, peace-loving warrior that Garfield had fought alongside during the Communist Wars. This time, Larry the Cable Guy was out for blood.

"Come at me, my children. Show me how much you've grown!" The Cable Guy stood perfectly still and parted his arms, beckoning for his men to attack him all at once. The Heavenly Kings activated their Patriotic Drive abilities and rushed at him in perfect sync, but Larry was able to avoid all of their fuckfurious blows with ease.

He effortlessly weaved through the maelstrom of punches and kicks flying his way, twisting and contorting his body like a master of _baguazhang._ After his enemies had exhausted all of their stamina, he finally counterattacked by upheaving the floor, sending them all reeling.

Garfield transformed into Garzooka and launched himself at the malevolent Cable Guy from the other side of the room. He brought his meaty fists down upon him and the two former comrades proceeded to exchange blows. The lasagna-loving feline was able to hold his own at first, but his opponent quickly gained the upper hand by digging his knuckle dusters into his wounded side. Not sparing his apprentice even the slightest amount of pity, he swung his bō staff at his face and sent the injured American flying to the other end of the hallway.

Garfield laid helplessly on the ground before him, blood spurting from his abdomen and pooling into the center of his master's prayer chamber. Larry began calmly walking towards Garfield as soon as the smoke cleared, fully prepared to finish him off if he still refused to surrender. Steve Buscemi won't stop referencing Harry Potter while discussing politics.

Crazy Frog intervened before he could strike and conjured a storm of lightning bolts to rain down upon him from above. Larry's skeleton shown brightly through his skin as billions of volts of electricity coursed through him, revealing the infernal machinery nestled inside of his body that enabled him to continue living long past the point where his body should have expired.

Garfield watched with his mouth agape as smoke billowed from the Cable Guy's body and the stench of his roasted skin and hair filled the room. The Backstreet Boys withdrew their machine guns and unloaded every last round at their disposal into Larry the Cable Guy while he was stunned. Garfield seemed hesitant at first, but he soon joined them by firing off a nuclear blast from his cybernetic gun dick.

The force of their righteous fusillade propelled their indomitable foe across the room, sending him crashing into his golden idols of George Washington and Karl Marx. Crazy Frog's lightning storm cleared and their former master collapsed to the ground in a puddle of his own bodily fluids, his body now riddled with holes and sparking with electricity.

 _"...My, my, my, my, my._ That was quite painful, wasn't it? My pain receptors have long since ceased functioning, so I can't say for sure. Well done injuring me, my children. You've awakened an emotion inside of me that I thought that I had lost forever: _anger._ How exhilarating!" Larry the Cable Guy complimented them as he shakily rose to his feet. His eyes rolledfor ward from the back of his skull and he nonchalantly popped all of his dislocated bones back into place. Smoke billowed from his mouth every time he parted his lips, signalling that the majority of his organs had been burnt to a crisp during Crazy Frog's attack.

"H-How are you still alive? Not even Honest Abe could have withstood a direct blow of that magnitude. Our attack should have killed you!" Garfield gasped. All of the Heavenly Kings recoiled as their half-dead opponent shrugged off his mortal wounds and sauntered towards them as if nothing had happened.

Larry raised his hand to his chin and puckered his soup coolers, "Alive? I don't recall ever saying that I was _alive._ No, that doesn't describe what I am at all. I exist in a state somewhere between life and death. My weak flesh failed me long ago, but my soul shall not fade from this sinful earth until my noble goal has been achieved. Can you imagine how painful it is to experience the death of your body but still be entirely conscious as you drift into nothingness? Because that's the pain my brother inflicted upon me all those years ago. My organs shut down one by one and I replaced them as they did so. One day I came to the realization that nothing of what I once was remained. I had no pulse, no emotions, and I could no longer feel pain. But yet I did not pass from this world. There is only explanation for this: my love of America has made me immortal. Fate has chosen me to be the one to save this country, and who am I to deny my destiny? With that said, it is now about time that I... _Git-R-Done."_

"Sparagmos: **「Real G's Move in Silence like Lasagna」**!" After uttering the name of Garfield's Patriotic Drive, a portal appeared beneath Larry the Cable Guy's feet and he disappeared inside of it. Garfield stood frozen in place out of fear, mortified that his enemy was able to perfectly replicate his own Drive ability.

He had spent years of his life training to master this technique. But somehow Larry the Cable Guy had managed to tap into its power despite not knowing even the most fundamental details about how it functioned. Dread quickly set in, and Garfield began to question whether defeating him was a task that mortal men could ever hope to accomplish. The very thought of it made him paralyzed with fear.

"Garfield-senpai, what the hell are you doing?! Get the fuck outta the way!" Steve Buscemi shouted as he noticed an identical portal appear from the feline's blind spot. Even if Garfield had the willpower to dodge, his body was far too injured to be able to heed his commands. He merely lowered his head and stood his ground, awaiting his grim fate.

Buscemi shoved his vice-commander to the floor as Larry's head rose from the whirling pool of cosmic miasma at their feet. A blade of light suddenly shot out from a cybernetic node in the Cable Guy's wrist. He brought the concealed weapon down upon his prey, and a blood-curdling cry echoed throughout the halls of Fidel Castro's fortress. But the cry did not come Garfield. Instead, his blade hewed Steve Buscemi's turkey neck asunder and sent his head rolling across the ground. _Larry the Cable Guy had just claimed his first victim._

 _"STEVE BUSCEMI!"_ Garfield's trembling knees gave way and he fell to the ground out of grief. Tears began to fall from his eyes harder than ever as he lifted up Buscemi's severed head and stared into his wide, vacant eyes that were once filled with life.

He remembered the time they had spent together as well as the laughs they had shared and the bitter tears they cried. But now he was gone, his life cruelly silenced by the very man who claimed be his father.

* * *

"Hol' the fuck up Garf-man, I just had a crazy thought. Do you think... God stays in heaven because he lives in fear of what he's created, here on Earth?" Steve Buscemi mused as he took another drag from his blunt.

Garfield sat down his hookah pipe and laughed at his bizarre observation, "Dude, you're fucking high."

Just as they always did after a hard day's battle, the two musclebound warriors passed the time by sitting shirtless around the campfire and smoking reefer to ease their nerves. For Garfield this had become something of a coping mechanism. Whenever he was racked with guilt over the Americans he had slain in the Backstreet Boys' name, he always seemed to wind up with a joint in his hand. He stared up at the sky and blew out a puff of smoke, remembering how he used to actually enjoy partaking in recreational drugs with the Biker Brethren. Now he did it merely to numb the pain.

"I'm curious about something, senpai," Steve chimed in, snapping Garfield out of his wistful daydream. "You've still got people who care about you somewhere out in the world, right? What's stopping you from returning to them? You're a lucky guy, you know. The rest of us lost everything. Why hang with a bunch'a miserable losers like us when you could be with the people who love you? Believe me when I say that you ain't gonna meet friends like them twice."

Garfield lowered his gaze and sighed. He took a moment to ponder what he had said, genuinely unsure of how to respond. Was it his duty to save America that forced him to distance himself from his past, or was he merely afraid of how his former friends would view him?

There was no question in Garfield's mind that the atrocities he had committed were beyond redeeming. But he genuinely believed that they were for a good cause and that one day his allies would come to understand that the goal of the Backstreet Boys was righteous. But at the same time he knew that there was no way that he could ever convince his friends of this. He suspected that Sonic would try to slay him on the spot if he ever found out. And the thought of being rejected by the people he had swore to protect terrified him more than anything else in the world.

After several minutes of silence, Buscemi shrugged and changed the subject, "Don't wanna say, huh? I get it. The past is never an easy thing to talk about. But I still can't help but feel a little jealous over what you've got. Me? I ain't ever had nobody that gave a shit about me. My real parents died young and the people who adopted me sold me off for booze money when I was just a little brat. Back during the old regime the Commies owned hundreds of American slaves, and I was unlucky enough to be one of 'em. It's a horrible existence that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. For twelve years I rotted in the dungeons of one of Karl Marx's wealthiest financiers. By the time that the war had ended and I was freed I had lost all sense of self. After so many years of being dehumanized you get to the point where you just can't feel anything anymore. Your body does what it's told out of fear, but your mind is as empty as a fuckin' stiff. It's nothin' short of a miracle that I can even put a sentence together after what happened to me. As bad as your life was, I'd still give anything to be able to walk a day in your shoes, Garf-man."

"That's terrible, laddy. How could you ever forgive the Marxists after they treated you so horribly?" Garfield asked. Drake and Josh conspire to hide their vast collection of Bad Dragon dildoes from Megan.

Buscemi turned to him with a chuckle, "Who says I forgave 'em? I still hate those socialist bastards more than anything else in the world. But by working for them, I can ensure that what happened to me never happens again. I'm fighting corruption on the inside while also killing the capitalists that sold me into that living hell. And I owe it all to that whack-ass Cable Guy for giving me the opportunity to seek out vengeance. I believe that he's the man who's going to save this country, and I love him in a completely heterosexual way. I know that he'll never let us down. I'll gladly give up my life if it means helping him achieve his goal!"

* * *

"...These tear ducts of mine have long since dried up, but you should know that inside I weep bitter tears for you. You've lived a very hard life, Steve Buscemi. You've earned the right to finally rest. Sleep well, my child," Larry the Cable Guy paid his respects to the fallen Backstreet Boy splayed out before him. He raised his head, only to find that Crazy Frog and Carl had already unsheathed their weapons and were steeling themselves for a duel to the death.

The Communist lord let out a long, hard sigh, "Don't do this. Being forced to slay one of my precious children was hard enough, please don't make me have to do it again. You should understand that while I love you like a father, none of you are irreplaceable. I've already mastered all of your Patriotic Drive abilities and your respective fighting styles. I am perfectly capable of achieving my goals without your help, but I do not wish to lose you. What good is standing at the top of the world if you aren't surrounded by your family? If you lay down your arms now and surrender, I promise that I will forgive you."

Garfield heaved his mangled body across the ground. He reached his arms outwards, begging for his steadfast companions to remain by his side as they slowly moved away from him. "Kermit, Carl, don't do this! We... we can't win against him! It's suicide! If you start running now, there's still a chance that you can get to safety. Leave me behind and _GO!"_ Garfield pleaded with tears in his eyes.

"And leave you here to die? No friggin' way, Garf-man. Have you already forgotten the creed of the Backstreet Boys? Even if the whole world turns against us, we fight for what we believe is right. We fight so that the people we care about can have a chance to live in a world that's free from war! Even if our masta' is a sack of shit, that's still an ideal worth dying for, don't'cha think?" Carl asked. Before Garfield could get in another word, the two Heavenly Kings began their hopeless assault on Larry the Cable Guy.

The battle was over within seconds. Using the very techniques he had taught the Backstreet Boys against them, Larry tore both of these puissant warlords to shreds, watering the ground with their lifeblood.

He butchered Carl with his flesh-choked blade and his godlike speed, slicing through even his bones until absolutely nothing remained. He continued to viciously hack away at his corpse long past the moment of his passing. Crazy Frog tried his hardest to pry him away, but there was no stopping the beast chained within this pitiless helldaemon masquerading as a man. He finally ceased his godless savagery and stood proudly in the midst of Carl's shredded carcass, panting heavily while his blood rained down upon him from the ceiling.

Crazy Frog charged at him only to be met with a similar fate. Larry the Cable Guy dropped his weapon and began ruthlessly pummeling Kermit into the ground with his bare fists. He ignored his weak cries for mercy as he crushed every last bone in the frog's trembling body. In that moment, Garfield came to understand why Abraham Lincoln had tried so hard to wipe his own brother from the face of the earth. There wasn't even the tiniest shred of humanity remaining in his black heart. For the sake of the Americaverse's survival, Larry the Cable Guy could not be allowed to live.

 _"G-God, I really h-hate Mondays..."_ Garfield ululated harder than ever before as he stood ankle-deep in the remains of his own friends.

"Kneel," The Cable Guy ordered as he sauntered towards the mortified American. Garfield complied without further resistance and fell upon one knee. Although his mind remained obstinate, his body had already surrendered itself to him out of a primal desire to survive. His spirit was strong right up until the very end, but his flesh was all too weak.

Garfield's eyes opened wide with shock as Larry the Cable Guy likewise fell to his knees. Blood began to dribble down his chin as his own sword suddenly pierced straight through his forehead from behind. Standing behind him was none other than _Crazy Frog,_ who had miraculously survived his master's brutal onslaught.

Just before his own trembling legs could gave way, he cracked a cocky grin and laughed at the look of abject horror spread across the Cable Guy's face. He whispered in his ear, _"T-That's for my family. Serves you right, motherfucker..."_

Crazy Frog removed the blade of light and hewed Larry's head asunder with a horizontal stroke. He then collapsed to the ground, dying with a peaceful smile on his face. After all of these years of suffering, he was finally able to return to his beloved amphibian family that fate had torn away from him.

Garfield took the frog's limp hands into his own and caressed them with his cheek. The light of the rising sun poured through the stained glass window and filled the room, signalling that the horrible nightmare that Garfield had been living for the past six years was finally coming to a close. For the first time since Americageddon, he finally had hope that the United States could still be saved. And it was all thanks to the courageous acts of the Backstreet Boys that this was possible.

A pleasant smile spread across the feline's face as he shifted his gaze towards the sunrise. He paid his respects to his fallen friends, "Kermit, Carl, Brendan, Tony, Steve... it's all over now. We've won. Wherever you are, I hope that you've finally been reunited with your family. And don't worry about me, alright? I've still got people here in this life that are concerned for me. It's about time that I go home and put their worries to rest. Wait for me, Sonic-kun! We're going to save this country together just like we should have from the start! I promise that I'll make things right this time, just you wait!"

 _"...My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my._ That was quite the close call, wasn't it? And here I was beginning to think that this old body of mine would never give out. But as long as my spirit remains, I shall never fade from this earth. I should really thank Meadowlark Lemon for ordering me to keep the body of that failed experiment around. Without it I truly would be gone. Yes, he shall make for a perfect vessel!" Garfield was shaken to his very core as he heard a faint voice call out from the other end of the Backstreet Boys' lair. His heart was filled with dread as he heard the sound of dribbling intertwined with footsteps growing louder and louder as the man behind the voice drew nearer. _  
_

"Ch-Charles Darkley! No, _you're—!"_ Garfield shook like a pot leaf in the wind as he spoke. The mysterious character pressed his finger against Garfield's lips, silencing him before he could finish his sentence. Circling around the man's body were none other than the fabled gifts of George Washington, the very relics that the Harlem Globetrotters had been working to assemble for the past 1,488 years.

The relics entered into the mahogany-skinned baller's body one by one and their godly powers were absorbed into him. He joined Garfield on the balcony and basked in the sunshine, "Ah, the sun! What a magnificent feeling. _Feeling..._ even using the term feels strange. It's been so long since I've felt anything. I believe that this new body and I will get along quite well. In a way I guess I should be thanking you, vice-commander. My frail old form had been holding me back this entire time. But now my spirit has been set free! I'd say that I'm twice, no, possibly _three times_ stronger than I was before. This is a new beginning! No, that's not the right word. This is a... _genesis._ This day shall mark the beginning of this world's end and the genesis of a new world of my own creation!"

 _"H-H-How—?"_ Garfield stammered, his lips colorless and his face pale.

Larry, whose spirit had possessed the corpse of Charles Barkley, roared with laughter and slapped him on the back, "Be merry, my child! The plans of the Backstreet Boys have almost come to fruition. With the gift that was contained in my brother's memorial now inside of me, I am now only missing one of Washington's Gifts. And once I obtain the power of the Communist-Slayer, my strength shall truly be without equal. I will exterminate the races of the Americaverse and finally bring about the peace we've desired for so long. Then the spirits of the Heavenly Kings shall rest in peace!"

Garfield slowly backed away while his reborn master cackled madly into the morning sky. He reached his hands towards the door, but froze when Larry shot him a bloodthirsty glare comparable to a wild animal staring down its prey. The quivering man-cat readied his chainsaw-nunchuks and gulped, "Who... who are you?"

"Oh, that's right. I still haven't introduced myself. How foolish of me! I'd tell you that I was Larry the Cable Guy, but that's not quite true. I've evolved beyond what I once was. I've shed my weak flesh and have become immeasurably stronger in the process. I am a Cable Guy no longer. I am... _**Larry the Hellbane Guy**!" _ Larry declared with a devilish laugh.

He then narrowed his gaze and continued, this time in a considerably more serious tone, "Now, only one question remains. Just what am I to do with you, my foolish son? I'm not sure if I want to kill you quite yet, but one thing is for sure: _you're going to suffer gravely for the pain you've caused me."_


	36. Sonic VS Donald Trump

**PLEASE DONATE SO THAT I CAN FUND MY DIP ADDICTION.** **THIS LIP AIN'T GONNA PACK ITSELF.** **YEE YEE!**

 _Larry the Cable Guy has become the ultimate being, the Backstreet Boys have been destroyed, and Sonic the Hedgehog has lost his Patriotic Drive. Will the bikers prevail against all odds, or does this mark the start of their downfall?_

* * *

"...It's hard to believe that it's already been 1,488 days since we formed our little alliance. You were so full of genocidal fuckrage when we first embarked upon this quest to defeat the Communist Empire. I'll never forget that look in your eyes when we met at George Costanza's smithery. I'd never seen such pure, raw hatred in my entire life. You were like a predator on the hunt, a rabid beast just raring to sink your teeth into the throat of the enemy. To be honest, that blood-lust really turned me on. Though I suppose that we've both mellowed out during these past four years of slaying Marxists. Wouldn't you agree, Sonic-kun?" Donald Trump mused, nudging his aloof partner with his elbow as he spoke.

Sonic furrowed his brow and groaned, "The hell are you talking about, Drumpf? I haven't gone soft yet. My favorite hobbies are still eating ass, going to church on Sunday, and throwing Commies out of helicopters. I'm the hardest nigga in the world, and ain't nothing gonna change me!"

Following their escape from Facebank, the Neo Biker Brethren set up camp on an abandoned moon located deep within Communist-occupied space. Alex Jones kept watch high above the terrain where they camped while the rest of the group recovered from their injuries. Trump was hard at work using his Patriotic Drive abilities to heal his allies, crafting them skin grafts and artificial limbs to replace the ones they had lost in the previous battle. He was even able to make Sonic a new arm, which he immediately used to jerk off with after receiving it. Such is a holy act.

"It wasn't an insult, Mr. Hedgehog. If anything, I'd say it's good that your anger has lessened over the years. You still intend to live together with your wife and son once our struggle is over, don't you? This just means that you're maturing into the kind of man that they need you to be," Trump spoke with a kind smile. Sonic lowered his gaze, unable to argue with his comrade's scholarly arguments. Trump had even managed to convince Sonic that the Earth was flat after several heated debates.

Donald held his hand to his chin, pondering what he had said previously, "1,488 days... I feel like we've seen that number quite often on our journey, wouldn't you agree? There are 14 lines in a sonnet, 88 constellations, the Communists have 1,488 generals, my flames burn at 1488 degrees, there are 1,488 sticks in every box of Pocky, and you first embarked on your journey to slay Marxists in the year 1488. That can't be just a coincidence, can it? I'm not sure what it is, but there must be some divine significance to that number, almost as if fate were guiding us towards something important. Whenever you end up in trouble, perhaps you should try searching for something that represents it. I'm positive that it's your lucky number, Sonic-kun. It may lead you to greatness someday!"

"Man, if I were sober I'd probably chop your head off with my cock for saying something so stupid. But since I'm high as fuck, I guess I'll take your advice. I'll keep that number in mind when we finally infiltrate the Communist homeworld to take back Richard Nixon. Speaking of that, do any of you chuckle-fuckers want to help us out?" Sonic asked, his gaze directed towards Wendy and the Dark Phoenix Suns.

The fast food succubus shook her head. She narrowed her gaze and answered him in a scathing tone, "Just how big of a fool can you possibly be? As much as we want to destroy the Backstreet Boys to avenge our beloved Sir Charles, storming the Communist homeworld right now is tantamount to suicide. All of the socialists in the known universe are gathering together for the centennial _Summit of the Communist Lords_. In just three days, Fidel Castro will execute all of the American prisoners on Stalingrad III as part of a ceremony to solidify his bonds with his fellow lords. If you truly wish to save that Nixon person from them, your only option will be to fend off their entire army and take down Castro before he can give the order to execute him. As strong as you are, there's absolutely no way that you can win that battle. No one can."

"Wait, Nixon is going to be... executed?" Sonic gasped. Wendy stood and departed without another word, taking Drake and Josh with her. The hedgehog's world came to a screeching halt in that instant, his mind racked with the realization that he would be forced to defeat the entire Communist race in order to save his son. And although he would never admit it, he was horrified by the thought.

The end of the war was now in sight, but thinking about it only made Sonic feel empty inside. He had never actually thought about what his life would be like once the war had ended. In some ways, Sonic wasn't sure if he actually _wanted_ the war to end. Killing socialists was the only thing that he had ever felt passionately about.

What need would the world have for a Communist-Hunter after all of the Communists had been eradicated? Would the new era he sought to create eventually abandon him? Was ending this war and living in peace really what he wanted in the end, or did he fight for something else? The hedgehog pondered on the subject for some time, but still couldn't come up with an answer.

Deep in introspection, Sonic wandered off to be alone with his thoughts. His curiosity was piqued when he noticed the silhouette of a large building just over the horizon. He stepped over the toppled barbed wire fence that once surrounded it, taking in a full view of the large concrete structure before him. He could only assume that it was a military base of some sort, likely abandoned after America's defeat in the first Communist War.

Sonic shoved open the iron doors leading into the base and took a step inside. He cringed as his nose was assaulted by the revolting stench of decaying flesh. Following the acrid smell, Sonic came upon a detention cell that was littered with dead bodies, all stacked high to the ceiling and in various states of decomposition. Some had already been reduced to being nothing but bones.

The appalling sight made the hedgehog's skin crawl. His heart skipped a beat as a voice suddenly called out to him from the other side of the dimly lit chamber, "We meet again, pard. I'm glad to see that you're still in one piece after picking a fight with the Backstreet Boys. So, what brings you to this miserable place?"

The glistening claymore at the rapper's side instantly gave away his identity to the seasoned American warlord. He was none other than _Ice Cube,_ the narcoleptic hierophant who saved Sonic's life during his confrontation with Brendan Fraser.

Sonic greeted him with a sigh of relief, "Long time no see, m'nigga. It feels like it's been ages since I saw you last. Anyway, I could ask you the same question. What the hell is this whack-ass place? Why's it so full of dead bodies?"

"I reckon that it's an abandoned base of the _Harlem Globetrotters._ There are hundreds of facilities just like this scattered across the far reaches of the Americaverse. Judging by the state of these corpses, I'd say that they were test subjects that got left behind when the Globetrotters were disbanded by the military. They most likely starved to death here waiting for their captors to return. It's pretty damn tragic if you ask me. Of course, the fact that you didn't know any of that means that our reunion here must've been arranged by fate. Where's the rest of your homies, kid?" Ice Cube asked as he explored the compound. He rummaged through their research documents as he spoke, searching for something.

"You mean Trump and the gang? I left 'em back at our camp. I needed some time alone to think over things. I also came out here to trip balls on _ayahuasca,_ but that's beside the point. Why would you bother coming to a shithole like this, anyway?" Sonic asked, following closely behind as Ice Cube investigated the abandoned research facility.

Ice Cube shined his flashlight into the darkness and continued, "I told you before about how I'm merely a copy of the original Ice Cube, right? We're more or less the same thing, but I'm missing a few of the memories he once had. The old me was murdered, so now I'm trying to solve the mystery of who did him in. I've got reason to believe that it was the Globetrotters who assassinated him. I was getting dangerously close to the truth of what they were planning, so they disposed of me before I could expose their dark deeds. I've scoured just about every one of their old bases trying to rediscover what they were hiding, but sadly I haven't had any luck. Meadowlark Lemon and his men were pretty damn thorough with disposing evidence."

"Meadowlark Lemon, huh?" Sonic murmured under his breath. He was taken back to his fateful encounter with his father, _Tails the Fox,_ who had given up his life trying to stop the Harlem Globetrotters from enacting their mysterious plot. Steve Buscemi unhinges his jaw whenever he sees a Nintendo Switch.

To this day he still hadn't figured out what Tails had sacrificed himself for. He had attempted his own research into the subject multiple times, even questioning Trump on their whereabouts, but still came up empty. They truly were an enigma. But despite never having encountered them, the patriotic hedgehog understood that he would have to defeat them one day in order to attain his dream of bringing peace to the Americaverse.

"You seem pretty distant today, kid. A far cry from your usual genocidal self. Wanna talk about it?" Ice Cube asked. He rested down the documents he was reading and took a seat on top of a heap of velociraptor skulls. Despite his better judgement, Sonic sat down next to him and began to vent his frustrations.

"Heh, I guess Trump was right. I really have gone soft. The old me would have never burdened someone else with his problems like this. Well, I recently learned that I don't have much time left to complete this journey. Wendy told me that the Commies are planning to execute all of their prisoners in just three days as part of some sacred ceremony. If I want to save my son n' shit, I've got no choice but to storm the Communist homeworld and take Richard Nixon back by force. Whether I live or die, this is going to be my final fight. Communism will be a thing of the past if we can win this battle. All of the Communist Underlords will be gathered there, so this is pretty much my best shot at killing them all. And that's exactly what I plan to do," Sonic explained his situation.

Ice Cube quirked an eye ridge in response, "So, this war is almost over, huh? I never thought I'd see the day. But ain't that a good thing, pard?"

The hedgehog sighed, "Yeah, it should be. That's the problem. I should be thrilled that this endless war is almost over. Destroying Communism is my life's goal, after all. But whenever I think about it, I only feel empty inside. I'm actually terrified for the first time in my life. As selfish as it sounds, I'd be happy just fighting the Commies with my homies for the rest of my days. But now that's all coming to an end. My role is almost over, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to move on to the next chapter in my life. Be real with me, old man: do we have a chance of winning this fight? Do we actually have what it takes to finish what Abraham Lincoln started?"

"I'll be blunt. As you are now, you can't survive this. You could defeat the enemy with ease if you committed yourself to your training like Lincoln and Tupac did, but I understand that you don't have the time for that. There's a slim chance that you could still succeed, but it's going to come at the cost of either your life or the lives of your friends. Only one question remains: what are you willing to sacrifice to win? Your life, or your homies? Do you intend to step over the corpses of your allies to see the new era you've been trying to create, or will you let it all end now?" Ice Cube answered in a grave tone. Sonic lowered his head in defeat, having already came to the same grim conclusion.

Without exchanging another word, the two weary warriors parted ways. Sonic spent the rest of the night staring up at the stars, unable to sleep. He lifted his skinny fists like antennas to Heaven, lamenting his weakness.

In that moment, Sonic felt more helpless than he ever had before. Just as he failed to save Garfield and Charles Darkley from their fate, he was now faced with the bitter truth that this battle could only be won by the sacrifices of his own allies. Abraham Lincoln was famously able to topple Wolfschanze and defeat Karl Marx without losing a single soldier. But when faced with the same momentous fight, Sonic could only reflect on how powerless he really was.

After much deliberation, the fuckfurious hedgehog finally came to a decision. He headed back to camp at the break of dawn and began gathering all of his belongings. The hedgehogian tsarevich donned his coat of mail and sharpened the legendary Communist-Slayer by the light of the open fire. He inserted his throwing knives into the sleeves of his baldric and hoisted it upwards, strapping the leather assembly over his left arm and around his torso. He pushed his hands through the sleeves of his biker jacket, wrapping it tightly around his waist. Lastly, he draped a tattered American flag over his spine covered back, using it as a makeshift cloak.

His hair blew wildly in the wind as he confidently swaggered out of the tent, trudging out into the grey and cold morning. Donald Trump gazed upon the proud American's muscled back as he departed without a single word. Desperate to stop him, he called out into the mist, "Mr. Hedgehog! Where are you going? You... you're not thinking of leaving us behind, are you? Come back!"

"Let him go," Ice Cube said, resting his hand upon Trump's shoulder. "He's found his answer. _He wants to die."_

Alex Jones ran to his side, eager to see what the commotion was about. Enraged, Trump grabbed the rapper by his collar and raised him upwards. He gritted his teeth, "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Ice Cube-san? What did you two talk about last night that made him start acting this way? Depending on your answer, I may just have to burn you to a fucking crisp!"

The water-filter salesman restrained Trump before he could hew off Ice Cube's head with his flaming underworld chode. The rapper met Donald's murderous glare and shook his head, "There's not much to explain. Sonic doesn't want anyone else to die on his behalf, so he's going to end his life on his own terms. He plans to perform the ultimate sacrifice as the Communist-Hunter by challenging the socialists to one, last battle. It's not a battle that he can win, of course. But he plans to free his son and cause as much carnage as possible before kicking the bucket. He's decided that it's the only way to make America great again while also keeping you all safe. It's his choice, so who are we to stop him?"

"That goddamn baka... after all this time, after all of the people that have died for his sake, he plans to just throw his life away like this? He won't even live in the new era that we've worked so hard to help him build? Stay back, everyone. I'm going to go beat some sense into that jive-ass motherfucker," Donald Trump grumbled, cracking his knuckles.

Before the hedgehog could mount his Harley and depart, Trump kicked him across the face and sent him tumbling across the lunar highlands. Sonic reciprocated his attack with a punch to Trump's throat. Donald reeled back in pain, coughing blood all over his pristine white suit.

As soon as he recovered, the infernal emperor of crimson flames launched a rapid barrage of punches at the hedgehog's exposed stomach, knocking him off kilter. He finished his fuckferocious combination by slamming Sonic into the moon's surface with such force that the ground folded in on itself. The rest of the bikers shielded their faces as a storm of dust, debris, and fresh blood flew at them, obscuring their vision.

Trump delivered a kick to the hedgehog's face as soon as he tried to stand, beating him even further into submission. The two battle-hardened American warlords then flew at each other and began to furiously trade blows once more. Adam Sandler forms a religious cult that worships "Back at the Barnyard."

Despite his superior strength, Sonic's unhealed injuries put him at a major disadvantage against Trump. Donald finally gained the upper hand by somersaulting high into the air and dropkicking him on his descent. He drove his flaming brick gauntlets into Sonic's face while he laid on the ground defenseless, beating him until he lost consciousness.

"...Who the hell do you think you are, jackass?" Trump suddenly stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a hoarse voice call out from behind him. Sonic the Hedgehog rose from the crater he had been buried in and struck his opponent across the face, knocking him onto his back before he could dodge.

Sonic wiped the blood from his lip as he stared down upon him. He spoke in an openly hostile voice, putting all of his personal feelings aside for the fight at hand, "Do I need to spell things out for you? This is _MY_ fight, and I don't want you or anyone else butting into it. I thought that you'd understand when I left without saying anything, but I guess you're just as much of a hard-headed jackass as I am. Don't you get it? I don't want any of your goddamn help!"

"I'm not going to back down from this, Sonic-kun. I promised Snow Miser that I would help you achieve your dream no matter the cost, and I sure as hell don't intend to abandon you now! If you're so eager to leave us behind and rush to your death, you're going to have to go through me first," Trump stated plainly. He stood in front of his motorcycle and folded his arms, blocking his path. Sonic angrily clenched his fists in response.

The heavenly golden dragon entered into his signature fighting stance, determined to stop Sonic from throwing his life away. His shimmering ivory mane glistened in the light of the sun as he stared Sonic down. The hedgehog let out a cry of impotent fuckrage and lunged at him, "Get the _FUCK_ out of my way!"

Sonic vaulted high into the air and brought his guitar down upon him without mercy. He bludgeoned Trump's head with the flat side of his blade, forcing him to his knees. But despite the grievous concussion he had given him, the president refused to yield. He fearlessly stood yet again to block Sonic's path to his motorcycle.

The hedgehog finished his fuckferocious assault by driving his fist into Trump's face at a speed comparable to being rammed by a bullet train, knocking him out instantly. Sonic kept his gaze held directly forwards as he stepped over his unconscious body, unwilling to look back for even a second. He sighed, "Sayanora, dicksleeve. I don't think we're going to see each other again. As of right now, _the Neo Biker Brethren are disbanded."_

Sonic's former brotherhood of steel could only watch as he mounted his Harley and soared off into the vast expanse of the Americaverse, heading straight for a battle that would surely kill him. Alex Jones offered his hand and helped Donald Trump to his feet. The president clenched his fist and swore under his breath upon waking, cursing himself for being unable to save his greatest ally.

"What now, little cuz? Sonic's the one responsible for assembling this patriotic brotherhood of ours. Without our leader, we're nothing. Are we just going to go our separate ways?" Alex Jones asked, holding a jug of filtered water in one hand and a blunt in the other.

"Of course not!" Trump snapped. He directed his gaze skyward and spoke with a voice full of conviction, "When we formed this group, we did so out of a common goal we all share. We're Sonic the Hedgehog's trusted vassals! We made an unspoken pact to help him save this country because we admired him and his dream. If we abandon him now, what good are we for? I intend to come to his aid, but I won't do it alone. I'm going to rally every pocket of American resistance in all of the patriotverse to fight for him! Sonic the Hedgehog is the man who will make America great again, and I will be his shield!"


	37. Dawn of the Final Battle (Pt 1)

**SUGGESTED LISTENING: "WAVING MY DICK IN THE WIND" BY WEEN**

 _The battle to end all battles — the one to decide the fate of the age — is at last about to begin. Will Donald Trump be able to raise an army to come to Sonic's aid, or are the Neo Biker Brethren doomed to die along with him?_

* * *

"It's been a long time, Donald Trump-san. Has the heavenly golden dragon finally decided to return to his nest?" A man swaddled in a black cloak asked in a throaty grumble. He sat comfortably atop a mountain of gold, a treasure trove so absurdly vast that it could have only been accumulated from the spoils of hundreds of years of war. Charred corpses were piled high beneath his feet, surely the remains of thieves that had tried to plunder his awesome wealth and had paid the ultimate price for their avarice.

The man tore the cloak obscuring his body asunder, revealing the crimson scales that emblazoned his otherwise human form and the pair of frayed wings upon his back. He widened his draconic eyes to stare deep into Donald Trump's soul, but the president remained undaunted. For Trump, the secret behind this great wyrm's heritage was clear: he was a dragonborn, a person born from the unholy union of man and flaming fuckbeast.

Trump lowered his gaze and chuckled, "We meet again, _Kanye West._ I'm glad to see that your dragon energy hasn't dulled over the years. As much as I'd love to catch up with the man who trained me in the ways of the warrior, I'm afraid that I have no time for such pleasantries. I've come here to ask for your aid. The greatest war in the history of the Americaverse is about to begin, and I am trying to raise an army to fight for my cause. Will you lend me your strength once more, master?"

"Enough talk. We may be sworn brothers, but I shall not lend my godly strength to a man who has chosen to hide from his own heritage. Prove to me that you are still worthy of my respect, Trump! Show me your dragon energy!" Kanye responded with a snarl. He spread his wings and lunged at Trump, his fangs poised to dig into his unsullied flesh. The president dove for cover at the last second and rolled to safety. Thinking quickly, Donald produced a ball of fire in the palms of his hands at launched it at Kanye.

The rapper dissolved his meager attack with his dragon breath, drowning his paltry flame with a mighty conflagration of red, white, and blue fire. The two flame-wielding warlords rushed at each other and began to furiously trade blows. Trump was able to hold his own thanks to the powers of his Patriotic Drive, but Kanye overwhelmed him with several lightning-fast slashes from his talons.

Trump laid flat on his back, badly beaten and barely able to stand. But before Kanye could move in for the kill, an inferno of white-hot flames erupted outwards from Trump's body. A pair of golden wings and a saurian tail burst out from his stylish suit, completing Donald Trump's transformation into his dragonborn state. Kanye West held his ground to admire his apprentice's transformed appearance.

"Ah, I see. So the blood of the great wyrms of old still courses through your veins after all. I'll never understand why you, a child born from the passionate romance of man and dragon, chose to discard his draconic heritage and embrace his human side. You could become so much more if you embraced the beast within as I have! Why did you give all of that up to live amongst the mortals?" Kanye asked.

Trump shook his head, "I do not resent my heritage. But unlike you, I do not wish to reject my humanity. I have seen the beauty of the Americans and their way of life. There is grace to them, even in their failings. There was once a time where I was merely satisfied with burning their world to ash for my own amusement. But after getting married, fighting in the Communist Wars, and devoting myself to the noble cause of another, I've come to realize that some among their race are indeed worthy of my respect. I truly believe that saving America is a cause worth dying for."

"They're doomed to die. In the end, only we dragonborn are strong enough to survive the coming calamity. Will you still follow them even if it's to their graves?" Kanye questioned. Trump smiled, "Perhaps they are doomed. But whether they live or die is none of my concern. I merely wish to stand by their side right up until the end. So, I must ask: will you help me fight for them?"

Donald Trump was born in the first age of the Americaverse to _Rick Sanchez_ and _Quetzalcoatl,_ a human and an Aztec dragon goddess respectively. His parents were slain by Communist soldiers early in his life, leaving Trump to fend for himself. He wandered the galaxy for 1,488 years searching for a purpose and a place to call home. To that end, he became the apprentice of Kanye West, a fellow dragonborn, and was taught the arcane arts of the dragon clan.

However, everything changed for Trump when he fell in love with Tomoko Kuroki, a fellow human. He abandoned both his master and his draconic abilities in order to live amongst mortal men. The only part of his old life that he retained were his pyrokinetic powers, which Dr. Mengele would later enhance with cybernetic technology. But for the sake of the American warlord who he had devoted his life to serving, Trump was willing to abandon even his cherished humanity to gain the strength needed to save him.

Yeezy eventually relented and shook Trump's outstretched hand. Although he still could not comprehend his apprentice's love for a race that he had deemed to be inferior, he was determined to help him fight even if it cost him his life. "Let's roll, Trump-san. It's time to make Columbine look like a fucking joke," Kanye West chuckled, loading his shotgun.

With the first member of his army now recruited, Trump mounted his Harley Davidson™ motorcycle and departed for the uncharted depths of American space in search of more allies.


	38. Dawn of the Final Battle (Pt 2)

**I AM PROUD TO ANNOUNCE THE FIRST ANNUAL FANFICTION GRILL-A-THON. BRING YOUR FINEST SKUNK MEAT DOWN TO SHEBOYGAN, WISCONSIN AND HAVE IT GRILLED BY YOURS TRULY. FUCK LIBS, GRILL RIBS!**

 _After recruiting Kanye West, Donald Trump has ventured off to parts unknown in search of more Americans to join his militia. Unbeknownst to the bikers, Larry the Hellbane Guy is hard at work making his own preparations for the final battle. Do these righteous patriots stand a chance against the diabolical brother of Abe Lincoln?_

* * *

"They call me monster. Zealot. Psychopath. Madman. Why, you ask? Because I have seen this sinful world for what it really is. America has gone astray, the souls of its people consumed by their endless malice and greed. Unlike my brother before me, I shall not delude myself into believing that this country that I love can be saved without sacrifice. For the pure-hearted to thrive, the souls of the unworthy must be cleared away! And that's exactly what I intend to do. I shall become the avatar of god's wrath in order to make America great again!"

Larry the Hellbane Guy recited his dark manifesto to himself as he blazed a path towards Fidel Castro's throne room. The Communist autarch's strongest guards rushed at him all at once, but they were all utterly decimated by the godlike abilities that Larry now possessed. The Backstreet Boy hewed their bodies in two with naught but a single slash of his Zanpakutō, watering the ground with their entrails and fleshy viscera.

Larry held his ground as Castro's enraged army of ten million strong advanced towards him. They began to circle his location in the middle of the courtyard where he stood, beating their spears against the ground and chanting throatily. Larry maintained his placid smile, unfazed by their show of force. He directed his icy gaze down the barrel of the tank gun that was pointed at his face and began to move calmly towards it.

The Marxist lord leading this impious task force raised his jeweled gauntlet and mustered a blood-curdling screech, ordering for his men to open fire in a repugnant tongue that could only be comprehended by the most wicked socialists among them. Larry remained perfectly still as Fidel Castro's army fired every last round at their disposal into his chiseled abs and bulging pectoral muscles. However, they all stood aghast after the smoke cleared, finding that their adversary was totally unscathed.

The Hellbane Guy withdrew _Shaquille O'Neal's MP3 player,_ the gift of Washington that granted its users control over the forces of reality. As soon as he placed the accursed earbuds attached to this arcane relic into his ears, his foes began shrieking in pain. The temperature of the Communists' blood raised to a boil and began erupting out from every orifice in their bodies, pooling out from their chapped lips and the heads of their wizened dangalangs.

The cruel torture inflicted upon them by Larry continued until every last drop of blood in their bodies had either evaporated or spilled out of them. Their desiccated husks then collapsed to the ground, forming a carpet of flesh that led him straight to Fidel Castro's lair. Satisfied, Larry gave a nod and sheathed his sword. The Hellbane Guy whistled peacefully as he walked over their corpses and followed the path they laid out for him.

Deeper inside the citadel, the Communist Underlords were busy discussing their plans for the mass sacrifice of Americans that was set to occur during the centennial _Summit of the Communist Lords._ Fidel Castro raked his hammer and sickle down the conference table where they sat, trying to silence the fearful clamor of his guests over Larry the Cable Guy's sudden betrayal.

"Goddammit, Castro! You promised us that Stalingrad III was the most secure planetoid in our entire empire! Explain to me how the hell that intruder managed to get inside and decimate all of your guards with ease. That maniac is heading straight for us!" Leon Trotsky spat, his voice brimming with fear.

Prior to Adolf Hitler's siege of Wolfschanze, Trotsky was one of Karl Marx's most trusted generals and served by his side for countless decades. He was eventually resurrected by Adam Sandler's powers and played a key role in the war for control of Marx's leaderless empire. Trotsky was one of the strongest Underlords besides Fidel Castro himself, owing majorly to his immense knowledge of technology. He was able to achieve total dominance over his foes with his army of killer androids that obeyed his every command.

 **UNDERLORD LEON TROTSKY - Cyber Communist**

"Oh, bother. Is bitching all you know how to do, you heffalump motherfucker? Don't worry about it. The second that intruder makes it here, I'll take care of him myself. I could use the entertainment!" Winnie the Pooh spoke with a hearty laugh.

Once, this fearless mercenary was but the simple excrement of an undesirable hellhound. A lesser helldaemon known as Christopher Robin used black magic to breathe unholy life into him, earning him the affectionate title of "Pooh Bear." In an act of defiance, Winnie the Pooh slew his master and fought alongside the Biker Brethren during the final days of the Communist Wars.

Like Leon Trotsky, Pooh had been revived after his death by the McDemons. He participated in the Marxists' war for supremacy out of boredom and was able to become an Underlord without the aid of his own army. Although Pooh had since become an incredibly important figure that held authority over thousands of Communist soldiers, he seemed to resent his status. He rarely attended the meetings of his fellow lords and never used his army to massacre Americans as his peers often did. Even after the fall of the Biker Brethren, Winnie the Pooh was still a noble patriot in spirit.

 **UNDERLORD WINNIE THE POOH - Hunny Knight**

"What on earth are you **「uninspired」** motherfuckers talking about? I'm too **「wired」** to be dealing with you normies. All I care about is getting revenge on Sonic the Hedgehog for throwing me off of a cliff. My feet hurt. This music is too loud. Can I please leave now?" Leonid Brezhnev groused for the hundredth time since arriving at the meeting. Jimmy Neutron decides to start calling his toilet the "Flushlight" for no good reason.

Leonid Brezhnev was by far the weakest Underlord, but he made up for his inadequacies by being exceptionally cruel. His love of torturing innocent Americans was infamous, to the point where even his own race were sickened by the depraved methods he employed.

 **UNDERLORD LEONID BREZHNEV - Wired**

Enver Hoxha slammed his fist on the table in a fit of rage. He shot Leonid a murderous glare, "Silence, you filthy serf! If anyone is going to kill Sonic the Hedgehog, it's going to be me. I'll never forgive that bastard for slicing off my legs and scarring my beautiful face! I was once the most beautiful socialist in all the land, you know. I will slay him and regain the beauty he took away from me!"

Likewise, Enver Hoxha was an incredibly vicious individual with a love for spilling the blood of innocents. Sonic had fought him during their youth, crippling him and scarring his face so badly that he had to conceal it behind a mask hewn from iron. Hoxha had a nasty habit of murdering any beautiful person he came across, despising them for daring to have good looks when his were stolen from him.

 **UNDERLORD ENVER HOXHA - The Mad Dog**

"Chill out, me brudda. Dere's no need for gettin' stressed about tings we can't control. How about you take a toke of dis ganja to ease your nerves, mon?" Pol Pot spoke in his native Jamaican accent. He passed his bong to Leon Trotsky, but the Bolshevik general smacked it away in anger.

Just as his name implied, Pol Pot was a stoner. He rose to prominence during the Communist Wars with his massive drug trafficking operations, a business venture that earned him a great deal of wealth and political influence. Pol Pot was known for being particularly unscrupulous and would even peddle his black market wares to children.

 **UNDERLORD POL POT - Underworld Drug Pusher**

The bickering Underlords turned dead silent when the iron doors leading into the room were blown off of their hinges. Standing in the ruined entranceway was none other than Larry the Hellbane Guy, the man who had once served Fidel Castro without question. However, now that he had obtained almost all of Washington's Gifts, he had completely dropped the pretense of being loyal to the Marxists and was now only interested in furthering his own goals.

Fidel Castro stepped down from his throne hewn from American skulls to face his mighty challenger. He gulped, barely able to hide abject terror, "Welcome to this distant plane, struggler. You've done well to make it this far. Even I didn't think that anyone would be able to destroy both my army _and_ the Backstreet Boys, but it appears that you've managed to pull it off. Just who the hell do you think you are?"

 **UNDERLORD FIDEL CASTRO - The Dreaded One**

"You seem to misunderstand, my lordship. You say that the Backstreet Boys were destroyed, but I am living proof that they are not only alive, but stronger than ever before. Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner. I doubt that you would recognize me in this new form, after all. It is I, your humble servant: Larry the Cable Guy!" The invader introduced himself.

Castro took a step back, floored by the realization. He gritted all 1,488 of his jagged teeth, "You… you did this? You decimated not only my army, but your own pupils as well? There's no hiding their fates from me; I've seen their butchered remains. I've always suspected that you were never truly loyal to my cause, but betraying your own 'children' is callous even for a socialist. Just what kind of sick, twisted monster are you? Who do you serve?"

Rosa Luxemberg snuck behind Larry while he was busy conversing with the Marxist lord. She lunged and brought her concealed katana down upon him, but the blade shattered the instant it collided with his swarthy skin. She stood frozen with fear as he turned to glare at her, too terrified to move even a muscle. Violent J grabbed Rosa and used _Shunpo_ to run to safety before the blue collar comedian could skewer her.

Violent J cradled his love's trembling body close to his chest. He met her tremulous gaze and shook his head, "Sorry about ruining your fight, Cherry Pie. Not even my ninja powers and the Joker's Cards combined would be enough to stop that whack-ass motherfucker. That man… there's no way that any child of mortal men could beat him! _He's become a physical god!"_

 **UNDERLORD ROSA LUXEMBERG - Shapeshifting Temptress**

 **UNDERLORD VIOLENT J - King of the Juggalos**

"I do not serve you. I serve the ultimate god, the king of all kings: _the Clown Prince of Basketball, Meadowlark Lemon!_ And my god has only one wish: for me to bring about the end of this sinful world!" Larry the Hellbane Guy boldly declared. Fidel Castro swung his axe towards his opponent's face, but Larry was able to swiftly catch the blade between his fingers and toss it behind him.

Fidel Castro shed his bulky fur coat and proceeded to exchange blows with Larry the Hellbane Guy. Their fists clashed at unimaginable speeds, infinitely faster than the speed of light, and created massive, solar system-destroying shockwaves every time they connected. Garfield takes up jelqing after being rejected by Arlene for the tenth time.

Castro let out a cry of pain as Larry out-maneuvered him and hewed off both of his arms with a effortless stroke of his katana. The Communist Underlord quivered with true, primal terror as he came face to face with his own mortality in the form of this avenger of American justice. He cracked a toothy grin, choosing to remain defiant right up until the bitter end, "Heh… so you're a Harlem Globetrotter, eh? I can't comprehend why someone as powerful as you would ever prostrate yourself to Meadowlark and his ilk. That man values nothing in this world. As soon as you accomplish his goals, you'll be the first one he kills. But who am I to judge? I'm curious about something… what did you have to give to achieve this power?"

Larry lowered his gaze and answered plainly, _"Everything."_

Fidel Castro threw back his head and guffawed at the regret he heard reflected in his foe's voice. He sneered, "You absolute _FOOL!_ Is your lust for power the reason why you slaughtered everyone in your own squad? You may have gained unrivaled strength, but it's come at a terrible price. I wonder how long you'll be able to continue before going mad from what you've lost. Not even you can suppress your emotions forever, you know..."

Larry snapped upon hearing his charged words. In a rare moment of intense emotion, he let out an impassioned scream and crushed his foe's skull under his boot. He then slowly sauntered towards the deceased Underlord's throne, smearing the remains of his shattered cranium on the ground as he walked.

Larry the Hellbane Guy crossed his legs and let out a sigh of relief. He reclined in the Marxist tsarevich's throne, but reflected on his face was not a look of satisfaction or contentment. Rather, he appeared more miserable than he ever had. Despite having discarded his old body, the scars that his brother had given him ached more now than ever before. He raised one of his hands in the air and gave his first command as the new leader of the Communist Empire: _"Kneel."_

The Communists trembled before the heavenly might of Larry the Cable Guy. He wore Fidel Castro's prized Super Bowl ring on his middle finger, signifying that his right to rule was divine. Far too terrified to defy him and his godly power, they subserviently bent the knee before the new emperor of Communism.

"I've made it no secret that I detest you socialists just as much as I detest the capitalists. For this world to be born anew, every last one of you sinful lambs must be culled. But just as a kind shepherd would, I shall spare your lives. You still provide some use to me for the time being. The greatest war in the history of the Americaverse is about to begin! The Harlem Globetrotters have made sure of this. By the time tomorrow is over, I will have obtained all of Washington's Gifts and you all will have perished in the aftermath of the battle. I only have one request of you: _fight well, and die well!"_ Abraham Lincoln's brother boomed from atop this throne.


	39. Dawn of the Final Battle (Pt 3)

**PLEASE MESSAGE ME IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN "BBW." (BEAUTIFUL BELUGA WHALES)**

 _Only one day remains before the Summit of the Communist Lords begins. With the fates of Richard Nixon and the entire Americaverse hanging in the balance, will Sonic the Hedgehog and his allies prevail?_

* * *

"...So, you need our help to win this war, huh? Have you started by sorting yourself out and cleaning your goddamn room, jackass?" Jordan Peterson scolded Jimmy Neutron in an openly hostile voice. The cane-wielding priest stumbled backwards in shock, startled by the man's gruff demeanor.

While Donald Trump was busy trying to recruit Kanye West, Jimmy Neutron and Alex Jones split up in search of more puissant warlords sympathetic to their cause of saving America. Father Neutron's search had led him to a remote planetoid on the fringes of space called _Gettysburg Centauri,_ home to a renegade faction of American exiles known as the _Anarcho-Capitalists._

Jimmy had heard many tales and songs about the exploits of this infamous order of Americans. Like Trump, the Anarcho-Capitalists were veterans of the Communist Wars that deserted their country and left the army in pursuit of their own desires. However, this ragtag group of militant patriots had not abandoned their fierce love of Lady Liberty and the American way of life. They merely disagreed with the war that their superiors had waged and believed in pursuing alternative methods for bringing peace to the patriotverse.

The American government labeled these quixotic men as traitors and banished them to the far reaches of space as punishment for their act of desertion. However, it is rumored that they continued to fight for their country in secret, working towards their own ideal version of the United States from behind the scenes. These stories are what led Jimmy Neutron to seek their aid, eventually bringing him face to face with their infamous leader.

"Come. Take a seat. And once you've finished resting from your trip, leave this place. Do you really think that we chose to remain in exile for over 1,488 years because we _wanted_ to be found? We won't fight your war for you. Whether this nation survives or crumbles is absolutely none of my concern," Jordan Peterson continued in the same gruff tone. He then raised his hand, beckoning for Jimmy to follow him to the heart of their base where he could rest.

The priest's gaze wandered around their living space as he trailed behind him, admiring the intricacy of their subterranean compound. The Anarcho-Capitalists' HQ was composed of a series of tunnels dolven deep into the earth, forming a labyrinth so complex that only their own members would be able to navigate through it. Donald Trump is obsessed with being "effay."

Jimmy took out his flask of holy water and drank it down to the dregs. He then lowered his shades and cracked a grin, confident that he could still win them over, "I figured you'd say something like that, brotha. I didn't think you'd be willing to fight on behalf of this country after what happened in the past. I know just as well as any other boss pimp that lettin' go of grudges ain't easy. That said, I can't just leave here empty-handed. What can I say to make you change your mind?

"You're wasting your time, boy. Nothing can make me regain my faith in this failed nation. And if you had witnessed the same horrors that I have, I'm sure you'd feel the same. _Patriotism is dead,"_ Jordan Peterson spoke, delivering a cold, unfeeling glare that pierced straight through Father Neutron's pious soul. "That said, I must ask: why are you so determined to save the United States? What do you see in this country that's so great that you'd risk your own life to defend it?"

His tattered cape swished behind him as he turned away from his guest, and for a brief moment Jimmy could see the faint shapes of the stars and stripes that once decorated his attire. But just like Jordan's faith in America, they had faded with time to the point of being nearly nonexistent.

"...I'm a simple man. All I want is enough sleep for two normal men, enough whiskey for three, enough bitches for four, and enough freedom for five. I've met plenty of jive suckas that've told me that pimpin' is dead. But whenever I hear that, I just laugh right in their faces. _Pimpin' ain't dead because I'm the motherfuckin' lifeline!_ And just like I'm keeping the noble spirit of Christian pimpin' alive, Sonic the Hedgehog is doing the same thing with America. How can you say that patriotism is dead when men like him exist? As long as there are still those that believe in the spirit of George Washington, then there's always hope for the United States to be reborn. I guess you could say that hope's rubbed off on me, too," Jimmy Neutron admitted.

"Sonic the Hedgehog, huh?" Jordan Peterson said, recognizing his name. "Don't misunderstand our position, Mr. Neutron. We haven't distanced ourselves from the affairs of this country because we hate truth, justice, and the American way. We won't help you because the United States of yesteryear isn't _worth_ saving. And if that's the America that your friend intends to bring back, I want no part of it. Do you even know about our government's rampant corruption during the Communist Wars? About the Harlem Globetrotters and the atrocities they committed? If you still cannot comprehend why we chose to abandon this country, I will show you the 'battle scars' that I received for my faith in America..."

Jordan let out a deep sigh as he tossed aside the cloak covering his body. Jimmy Neutron reeled backwards in shock, nearly spitting out his grill from the ghastly sight he had just laid eyes upon. The entire right side of this American warlord's body had been horrifically mutated, his skin transformed into pitch-black saurian scales that were emblazoned with vast congeries of tumorous growths that resembled shrunken, screaming faces. His twisted skin pulsated and all six of his knurled fingers jerked about in an ungainly fashion independent of one another. His blood-stained claws writhed and dug into his side, revealing that he was only barely able to control his monstrous anatomy.

Jimmy Neutron couldn't help but recall the ghastly visage of Taylor Swift as he beheld Jordan Peterson's bestial form. He could only assume that their appearances were linked, possibly meaning that he was an earlier experiment to harness the powers of Adolf Hitler just as Marx's daughter once was. Taking notice of the fear in Jimmy's eyes, Jordan lifted his cloak to cover himself once more.

He sighed, "I see that you recognize this detestable form. I'm not surprised; the patriotverse is littered with the failed experiments produced during the Communist Wars. We call this form the 'Curse of the Harlem Globetrotters', and it's something that all of the Anarcho-Capitalists share. Do you understand now why we refuse to help you, Mr. Neutron?"

The rest of Jordan Peterson's men emerged from the cover of darkness, tossing aside their cloaks to expose their own mutated forms. Just as Jordan Peterson possessed the right arm of Adolf Hitler, his loyal soldiers also shared pieces of the accursed Führer's ghastly countenance. _Rick Astley_ had the wings of Hitler upon his back, _Scrooge McDuck_ had his signature third eye and horns, _Vegeta_ possessed his forked tail and daemonic dangalang, and _Nanachi_ possessed his left arm. Lastly, _Squidward_ and _Mung Daal_ shared his satyr-like legs.

"...This is the curse that we're forced to bear. I was the first in a line of experiments conducted by the Globetrotters to merge human souls with the spirits of Marxist helldaemons to create a being with the power to rival even Hitler in strength. The experiment failed, disfiguring us and corrupting our genes with Hitler's loathsome DNA. That very incident was the reason why we became disillusioned with this country. After that day, we left the Americaverse behind and never looked back. We now have only one goal: to destroy the diabolical organization that did this to us!" Peterson boldly declared.

The rest of his men let out a triumphant battle cry, raising their voices in support of his goal. Jimmy Neutron lowered his gaze and smiled at their camaraderie. Although he had promised himself that he wouldn't become involved with the affairs of these strangers, he found himself already respecting these courageous men as his equals. Steve Buscemi is an advocate for Pit Bull genocide.

Without warning, Jimmy Neutron suddenly fell upon his face before them. He kept his gaze fixed upon the ground, prostrating himself at Jordan Peterson's feet, "This might be incredibly selfish of me to ask, but please — teach me your secrets! I have a powerful darkness festering inside of my soul as well. Even now it lurks beneath the surface, threatening to take control of my mind. If you can't help us save America, then please train me to overcome the demon within as you once did!"

Enraged by Jimmy's attempt to rid himself of him, the psychotic alter ego known as _Carl Wheezer_ assumed control of the priest's body. His mien changed drastically to fit his new personality, with Jimmy's eyes turning blood red and a bloodthirsty smile spreading across his lips. Sonic attends mass every Sunday inside of an IHOP.

Carl ripped off the crucifix necklace that adorned his priestly robes to complete his transformation. He cackled, _"GYAHAHA!_ Man, it feels _GOOD_ to finally be free from that weakling. Eh? Who do you think you're lookin' at, fuckface? I'm the motherfuckin' mack daddy from Hell, the pope of pimps! And you wanna get rid of me, I'm gonna _RIP YOU APART!"_

Carl Wheezer unsheathed his cane sword and rushed at Jordan Peterson while he was stunned. He managed to deflect his blade before it could pierce his throat, but the llama-loving pimp still managed to slice a deep gash across his cheek as he blew past him. Carl eagerly licked the blood from his blade, relishing the taste.

Jordan nursed his stinging cheek as he paced around the room, studying his opponent. After spying an opening in Carl's defenses, he outstretched his mutated arm and launched himself towards him. The pope of pimps began wildly swinging his sword in all directions in order to fend off his attack. But despite his best efforts, Jordan was able to weave his way through the barrage of sword slashes and strike Carl across the face with his opened palm.

The rest of the Anarcho-Capitalists dove for cover as Carl Wheezer was launched across the room. Thinking quickly, he thrust his sword into the floor to stop himself from smashing through the wall. Jordan's adversary recovered in a matter of seconds and began his enraged assault once more. None of Jimmy Neutron's characteristic grace and skill could be found in any of his moves as he attacked. True to his reputation, Carl Wheezer was a mindless savage on the battlefield who tore apart everything in his path without mercy.

"So, should we step in or what? Sure looks like Jordan's getting his ass handed to him," Squidward asked, not confident in their leader's fighting ability. Garfield won't stop complaining about the gangstalking epidemic.

Nanachi shot the pessimistic cephalopod an annoyed look. She shook her head, " _Nnnnaaaaa._ Try not to be such a massive fucking bellend, Squidward. Can't you see that Jordan's just playing with him to test his abilities? That priest might not know it yet, but the victor of this battle has already been decided."

Jordan Peterson stood up straight and held his shoulders back as he prepared to unleash his full power. With one final, decisive strike, he smashed Carl's face deep into the ground with his right arm. The priest's expression returned to normal as soon as he collided with the floor. He laid motionless at his feet, badly beaten and barely breathing.

Peterson knelt down and offered his hand to Jimmy, "Whoops. Looks like I overdid it a little. You alright, boy? You're not dead, are you?"

Jimmy winced with pain as he rose to his feet. He cracked a confident smirk, trying to feign being uninjured, "M-Me, dead? Like that would ever happen. I'm too old to pimp, and too young to die, so I'm just gonna keep playin' until my time runs out. So, do you see now why I need your help so badly?"

"...You're a mess, kid. You know you should set your house in order before trying save the world, right? Well, I guess I can't let someone like you brave this coming storm alone. I'll help train you to control that dark side of yours. After all, you're going to need all the help you can get," Jordan responded, finally accepting his impassioned request. "And while we're training, tell me more about that Sonic fellow that you respect so much. We Anarcho-Capitalists have been searching for a worthy hill to die on for centuries now. If he's against the Globetrotters too, then that's enough reason for me to come to his aid!"

Meanwhile, Alex Jones was busy scouring the Americaverse for more righteous, freedom-loving warmasters to join their militia. His search had led him to a small village located on the planet Yosemite Theta, a humble settlement built by the survivors of the resistance movement formerly headed by Huckleberry Hound.

Alex Jones took a seat next to their current leader, _Yogi Bear,_ atop a cliff that overlooked the horizon. This paragon of Americanesque masculinity threw back his entire canteen of filtered water and laughed, slapping the bear on the back, "So, have you thought about my offer, little cuz? I know that you and your crew are still recovering from almost being wiped out by the Backstreet Boys, but we could really use your help to win this war."

Yogi Bear clasped his hands in prayer, paying his respects to the graves of Huckleberry Hound, Top Cat, and Boo-Boo. He turned back to Alex Jones with a sigh, "You know what you're asking of us, right? We respect Sonic the Hedgehog just as much as any other group of patriots. The Communist-Hunter's exploits inspired us to form this rebel cell in the first place. But if we fight the Communists in our current state, we'll be obliterated…"

Alex Jones bowed his head out of respect. After having lost their noble leader and over half of their men to Larry the Cable Guy's vicious acolytes, he couldn't fault him for not wishing to come to their aid. Excluding Yogi himself, Huck's army consisted only of _Magilla Gorilla, Tom, Jerry, Larry Boy, Waluigi, Early Cuyler, the Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past from the Future,_ and a few dozen other soldiers. Just as he turned to leave, he heard the voice of Yogi Bear calling out to him, "Hold up, senpai! I wasn't finished yet."

The bear managed a smug grin, "This may be a suicide mission, but I'll gladly give up my life if it means being able to fight side by side with that whack-ass hedgehog that Huck respected so much. There's just one problem: our group still doesn't have a name. If we're gonna go down fighting, we'll need a good name to strike fear into the hearts of ours sodomy-loving foes. Got any ideas?"

"You folks need a name, huh? What do you like, little cuz?" Alex Jones asked.

"Big titties and martial arts," Yogi Bear answered matter-of-factly. Jon Arbuckle is shocked when Ashtar Sheran informs him of his Pleiadian heritage.

The water filter salesman lowered his shutter shades and grinned, "Alright then. From this day forward, you guys will be known as the _**Big Titties Martial Arts Fan Club.**_ Now let's go kick some Commie ass, little cuz! Fuck yeah, _AMERICA!"_

With the Anarcho-Capitalists, the Big Titties Martial Arts Fan Club, and Kanye West now allied with the Biker Brethren, Sonic's three vassals returned back to their home base. In addition to these new recruits, the Wu-Tang Clan, Anne Frank, George Costanza, and Ice Cube had returned to aid the bikers. The members of the alliance waited patiently inside of the bikers' temporary garrison, eagerly awaiting their orders.

The clamor of the alliance members ceased as Donald Trump approached the podium situated in the middle of the room. They waited with bated breath from the bleachers where they sat, remaining quiet as to not miss his enlightened words of divine fuckbrilliance.

The heavenly golden dragon parted his rosy lips and began to speak in a soft, yet powerful voice, "My fellow Americans… I thank you all for joining us in this final struggle. Together, we will determine the course of America and the world for years to come. We will face challenges. We will confront hardships. But we will get the job done. From this day forward, we are no longer just a ragtag group of mere, simple Americans. Nor are we bikers, b-ballers, or anything else of the sort. We may be few in number, but I have no doubts that the army standing before me is the mightiest group of patriots ever assembled. We are the **_Space Force_** _,_ and we _WILL_ make America great again!"

Donald Trump raised his index finger to the heavens above and bellowed with a mighty gorilla shout, rallying his men to war. The Space Force members did the same, standing with him in solidarity to show their respect for not only Sonic the Hedgehog, but the late Biker Brethren, Tupac Shakur, the Founding Fathers, and every other righteous group of American warlords that had come before them.

Donald stepped to the side, revealing the group of shadowy figures that stood behind him during his speech. He turned to them with a playful smirk plastered across his face, "And before we adjourn this meeting, there's one last group of recruits that I'd like to introduce you to. I'm sure that those who fought in the first Communist War will know who they are and just how fearsome they can be. I didn't even think that the rumors of their revival were true at first. It wasn't easy convincing them to join our side, but I managed to win them over. They are… the _Children of Karl Marx!"_

Lurking in the shadows were none other than _Taylor Swift, John Cena, Kevin James,_ and _Joseph Stalin._ At long last, the day of the rope had finally arrived. The fate of the entire Americaverse was finally about to be decided...


	40. Extra: Facts and Trivia Part 2

**SUGGESTED LISTENING: "ROAD TRAIN" BY KING GIZZARD & THE LIZARD WIZARD**

 _The time has come for yet another filler chapter! Just like last time, I'm going to list the various ideas and jokes that have gone unused in the main story. I'm also going to detail some of the plot threads that ended up getting scrapped along the way. Everything you're about to read is canon. Please enjoy!_

* * *

\- The original version of _Defender of America_ is canon. It takes place in an alternate timeline that was destroyed by Adolf Hitler.

\- The members of the Last Alliance that weren't slain by Sonic the Hedgehog now reside in Stalingrad Prison. Barack Obama tutors Nixon during his imprisonment, training him to become strong in place of his absent father.

\- In addition to being fluent in Italian, Donald Trump can also speak Japanese, Ebonics, Quenya, and Romulan. His deep appreciation for arts, culture, and language was instilled in him at a young age by his mother.

\- The only characters that could potentially defeat Abraham Lincoln in a fight are Tupac, Larry the Cable Guy, Adolf Hitler, Alex Jones, Jordan Peterson, Kanye West, and Jon Arbuckle. However, none of them would stand a chance against Karl Lincoln.

\- All three installments of the Jimmy Timmy Power Hour are canon.

\- Sonic's favorite drink is Monster Ultra™.

\- Aside from slaying Communists, Sonic the Hedgehog's hobbies are lovemaking, drinking, frequenting strip clubs, big-game hunting, and reading terrible Shounen manga. Donald Trump's hobbies are composing music, tailoring, and collecting vintage wine. Jimmy Neutron's hobbies are handing out Chick tracts and restoring classic cars. Lastly, Alex Jones enjoys wrestling zoo animals and consorting with gnomes, dryads, and other woodland spirits in order to learn their arcane secrets.

\- In addition to ruling Hell, Adam Sandler is also the king of _Hueco Mundo._

\- Unlike the rest of Karl Marx's children, Taylor Swift was not a brainwashed American. She was grown in a lab from Adolf Hitler's cells in an attempt to create a mass produced army of Hitler clones that were loyal to the Communist Empire. The experiment was a success, but the project was shelved due to her immensely unstable personality.

\- Brendan Fraser never needed to kill others and steal their memories to create his Ghost Warriors. This was merely a lie that Larry the Cable Guy concocted to further his goal of galactic genocide. Although siphoning the memories from others was indeed a fatal process, using this on himself was harmless. Brendan ended up discovering this on accident when he took his own memories of Bugs Bunny from the clone of Ice Cube.

\- Carl has schizophrenia and imagines that he is haunted by talking fast food. Garfield rescued him from his squalid living conditions in an insane asylum and made him his apprentice, an act of kindness that Carl has spent every day since trying to repay him for.

\- Larry the Cable Guy engineers loyalty in all of his acolytes by pushing them to the depths of despair and rebuilding their broken psyches to help accomplish his own goals. He believes that mentally breaking his men makes it easier to brainwash them into blindly serving him. He first devised these methods during his time in the Biker Brethren, where he was responsible for torturing enemy soldiers to gather information. The first person he tried this technique on was Crazy Frog, whose family he murdered. Tony Hawk was actually privy to Larry's diabolical plans but served him anyway.

\- Sonic spends almost all of his free time playing Minecraft. The only things he builds are dicks and swastikas.

\- There once existed a precursor to the current race of Americans. They have been dubbed as "Native Americans" by patriotic scholars and lived billions of year before modern man. They were believed to be incredibly advanced, creating many of the Americaverse's most famous landmarks such as the Statue of Liberty. They were obliterated by an unknown force, vanishing overnight.

\- Alex Jones's Patriotic Drive is named **「Virtual Insanity」**. It will appear in the final arc.

\- **「Foreigner」** grants Carl the use of the _Foreigner Belt,_ an extremely powerful magical artifact that bestows its user with all the super powers of 70's super-group, _Foreigner._ Once the belt is active, Carl can use a menagerie of different Patriotic Drive abilities. **「Cold as Ice」** can freeze anything, **「Double Vision」** blurs the vision of anyone in range, **「Dirty White Boy」** makes his enemies switch sides temporarily, and **「Head Games」** can turn anyone's head into a game of Connect Four.

\- Excluding **「I Don't Like Mondays」** , Larry the Cable Guy possesses improved versions of all of his students abilities. He never learned Garfield's second Patriotic Drive as he developed it in secret without his help.

\- **「Pretty Fly for a White Guy」** allows Steve Buscemi to weave horrific illusions. Much like his own fighting style, his Drive has very little offensive ability and instead works by discomforting his enemies. These illusions are so terrifying that many lesser men have lost consciousness simply from gazing upon them. However, when used on a fearless patriot like Alex Jones, his power has no effect.

\- While only pureblood Americans can fully master the Patriotic Drive, others can learn this ability as long as they belong to a race descended from the Founding Fathers. The only species that cannot use the Patriotic Drive at all are pureblood Communists.

\- Guy Fieri has served the White House for hundreds of generations. This culinary mage was once a ruthless warlord that ruled the planet Flavortown with an iron fist, but he was eventually defeated by the American army and brought to justice. As punishment for his misdeeds, he was sentenced to act as the president's bodyguard for the rest of eternity. While he despised this duty at first, he eventually came to love the United States and its people. He continued to loyally serve in the oval office for almost every president after this, passing the wisdom of the country's previous leaders to the next generation while continuing to guard their lives.

\- All of the races of the Americaverse age differently. While all Americans are biologically immortal, demigods age at a much slower rate and don't reach adulthood until they're one million years of age. Communists only live for five hundred years on average, but have been known to use black magic to artificially extend their lifespans. Other races like the Wu-Tang Clan and the Russians live for roughly ten thousand years.

\- Sonic's original axe-guitar was named "The Globalist-Slayer," a name given to it by Alex Jones.

\- The Americaverse has no court system. Legal battles are fought in coliseums where the two parties duel to the death using only their bare hands. The victor of this battle is honored with lavish gifts such as gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Such is a holy act.

\- Rock golems are the natural enemy of dragons and have hunted their kind to near extinction. This is why Dwayne Johnson was able to defeat Donald Trump so easily.

\- Sonic survives solely off of raw lizard meat. He refuses to eat any other animal as, in his own words, they are "gay as hell." He also drinks a gallon of milk everyday to increase his already massive bulk.

\- Prior to his encounter with his Sonic the Hedgehog, Jimmy Neutron traveled the world as a Marxist-slaying missionary. He's held a longstanding grudge against the Communists for Hugh's murder as well as their persecution of Christians. When offered a chance to finally fight back against them, he gladly accepted.

\- Method Man's name is short for "Scientific Method Man." Before his death, he was a notable scholar and scientist for the royal family of Wu-Tang Prime. Method Woman strives to become a brilliant mind like her father was.

\- In addition to the Garfield side-story, I originally planned for there to be two more side-stories. They were named "Winnie the Pooh's Rumbly Tumbly Adventure Gaiden" and "It's the Wu-Tang Clan, Charlie Brown!" and would have been about the origins of Pooh and the Wu-Tang Clan. I decided to scrap them in interest of getting the story done quicker. Most of the story elements ended up getting recycled into the main plot.

\- The story was originally going to end with Defender of America. The idea of making a sequel wasn't something that I considered until very late in the writing of the fic. I intended for Adam Sandler to remain good and have Hitler be the final villain, but Sandler's role ended up being expanded to make the ending into a cliffhanger. The final battle with the Harlem Globetrotters was moved to the sequel as a result.

* * *

 **Next Time: The Beginning of the Final Arc and the Grand Finale to the Americaverse Saga — "The Siege of Stalingrad III"**


	41. Cometh the Hour of Our Damnation

_**SONIC THE HEDGEHOG: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN FINALE**_ — _**THE SIEGE OF STALINGRAD III**_

 _ **Part 1 - Cometh the Hour of Our Damnation**_

 _At long last, the promised day has arrived. The Capitalists, the Communists, the Wu-Tang Clan, the Juggalos, the Harlem Globetrotters, and every other faction in the patriotverse have gathered to take part in this ultimate war. At the world's end, only one outcome is certain: the United States will never be the same again…_

* * *

Larry the Hellbane Guy stood proudly at the zenith of Fidel Castro's castle, gazing down upon the lands that he had conquered and the serfs he had enslaved. His stylish trench coat and mullet fluttered wildly as the harsh winds of a winter storm fell over his domain. The roof of his prison fortress and the grounds beneath soon turned white with heavy snow, broken up only by the footprints of the prisoners beneath that were marching to their execution.

After an entire century of waiting, the _Summit of the Communist Lords_ had finally begun. All six of the remaining Marxist Underlords sat upon gilded thrones that overlooked the courtyard where the executions would be staged. Situated behind them was a watchtower that stretched high above the clouds, and at the top of it was Larry's own throne that was hewn from solid gold and the bones of Americans.

Even to the terrified prisoners beneath, the empire's current hierarchy was clear: Hellbane Larry was infinitely superior to his subjects in both power and status. Long gone were the days where the Underlords ruled on equal footing with one another. If they dared to step out of line or do anything to interfere with the plans laid out by the Harlem Globetrotters, he would slaughter them without mercy. In a way, they were prisoners themselves.

Marxist guards prodded the prisoners with their rifles to force them through the snow. Once they reached the stage of their execution, they were forced to their knees and made to bow before their superiors. Any among them who fell behind were shot on sight, dying the snow red with their lifeblood. Richard Nixon closed his eyes, unable to bring himself to watch the deaths of his fellow patriots. Alex Jones struggles with his newfound feelings after falling in love with Astolfo.

Barack Obama rested his hand upon the trembling boy's shoulder. He spoke to him in a warm, calming voice, "Empty your mind, my child. Shut out everything else and focus on my voice. I promised you when you first became my cellmate, didn't I? I made a vow that I would reunite you with your parents. I owe a great debt to your father, so it's only right that I would put my life on the line to help you escape. The odds may be stacked against us, but I still believe that I can get you to freedom. Have faith that Washington will show us the path to salvation!"

Even Nixon could tell that the swarthy-skinned president's promise was an empty one. Elaborate pipework ran along all of the fences of the clearing where they stood, ready to vent a lethal amount of Zyklon gas into the crowd of fifty thousand prisoners. Sacrificing a massive amount of Americans was tradition for every socialist gathering, and this event was no exception. It would take nothing short of a miracle to save them from their grim fate, a miracle the likes of which hadn't been witnessed since the epoch of Abraham Lincoln.

The Underlords fidgeted around awkwardly in their seats, discomforted by the piercing eyes of Hellbane Larry fixed upon them from above. Enver Hoxha groaned whilst he tugged at his collar, "Nrrhg… I'm really beginning to envy Castro. Even death is a better fate than having to serve this monster. Why do we even have to put up with this charade? Our alliance has been dissolved, half of our members are dead, and Pooh has disappeared to who knows where. What is Larry trying to accomplish by carrying out the ritual sacrifice as if nothing has happened?"

Hoxha let out a sigh as his gaze shifted to the empty thrones of Winnie the Pooh, Fidel Castro, Peter Kropotkin, and Che Guevara. Although he would never admit it, he had begun to miss their presence. The demise of the Communist Empire's strongest leaders did not augur well for the fate of the Marxist race. Larry could wipe out every single one of their order if he chose to do so, and there would be absolutely nothing they could do to stop him.

Rosa Luxemburg shot Enver an annoyed look, "What's the point in asking us? We're just as clueless as you are. I don't understand his motives, but that madman seems hellbent on slaughtering as many innocent people as possible. He claims that another war between the two races is bound to break out if today's execution goes as planned. I don't know _who_ he thinks would be foolish enough to try and save these condemned prisoners, but who am I to judge? He promised that he would keep us alive if we continue serving him. And as long as we still draw breath, we can protect our people from this monster..."

Silence fell over both the condemned patriots and the bickering Underlords as a ball of fire suddenly appeared in the sky. It descended at an incredibly fast velocity, producing a sonic boom as it smashed through the firmament. For a moment, they swore they could even hear the sound of screamo metal emanating from the object as it collided with the snow-covered earth.

Larry the Hellbane Guy reclined in his throne with a smug grin plastered across his lips. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist. So you've finally arrived, _Sonic of the Hedgehog Clan…"_

A blue flash sped out from the massive crater formed by the impact. It blew past all fifty thousand of the American prisoners, rending their shackles to pieces just seconds before the executioners could switch on the gas. Obama's eyes opened wide from shock as he recognized the figure that had freed him from his bonds. "Wait, could that be… _Sonic-kun?!"_

Obama turned his head to his side, only to find that Richard Nixon had vanished during the chaos. The young lad had been swept up into the arms of the mysterious character as he dashed towards the platform where the Underlords sat. Although his savior was a complete stranger to him, Tricky Dick couldn't help but feel a strange sense of comfort as he cradled him in his arms. It was almost as if he had known this man for his entire life.

"E-Excuse me, but… who the fuck are you, honkey?" Nixon asked, staring up into the shimmering waters of the man's deep blue eyes.

He couldn't help but laugh at the boy's utter lack of tact, reminding him of himself. He lowered his gaze and gave a kind smile, "Name's Sonic. Sonic the motherfuckin', chain-smokin', wife-beatin' Hedgehog. You may not know me, but I've been wanting to meet you for a long time. Every night I lie awake regretting how I wasn't there to see you grow up. I hope that one day, you'll forgive me for not being there for you and your mother. _I'm your dad, kiddo."_

"My… _father?_ I have a dad?" Nixon gasped, barely able to get the words out of his mouth. Sonic fell upon one knee and embraced his son as tightly as he could. A single tear trickled down his unshaven face as he did so. But only one tear, as any more than that would have been extremely gay and would be viewed as an abomination in the eyes of his forebearers.

Sonic rose to his feet to stare up at the Communist Underlords. They observed the chaos from the comfort of their golden thrones, silently judging the mortal world beneath them with a look of utter disgust upon their faces. They looked upon him and his American kinsmen as if they were no more than a swarm of frenzied ants, beasts of burden whose fate was to be tread upon underfoot.

Sonic spat bloody cartilage upon the snow as a sign of contempt. He placed Nixon on his shoulder and leapt high into the air, putting him on equal footing with these bloodthirsty Communist malefactors. Donald Trump drafts legislation in secret for ALF to be playable in Super Smash Bros.

He gestured for his son to move behind him as he unsheathed his electric guitar. He then directed this obsidian-wrought blade towards their knurled faces, challenging his oppressors openly and without fear. _Sonic the Hedgehog had just declared war._

Pol Pot whistled in astonishment, "This brudda sure is scary, mon! _Kowai desu ne…"_

"This kid sure has some big-ass donkey balls, I'll give him that. No sane man would think to challenge the Marxist lords on their home turf without so much as a single soldier to back him up. Is he crazy?" Leon Trotsky asked.

Leonid Brezhnev grinded his teeth together in anger, "That goddamn wankster cunt! He's the one who tossed me off of a cliff before! I'll show this **「** **tired** **」** weakling what it means to truly be **「** **wired** **」** and **「** **divinely inspired** **」**!"

"Back off, you filthy serf. Sonic is _MY_ prey. Did you really think this would work, boy? You can't fight all of us by yourself. Even attempting such a thing is tantamount to suicide!" Enver Hoxha mocked.

"He's right, you cracka-ass chicken. You ain't strong enough to face us yet. Every single person here is about as powerful as Karl Marx once was! Do you think you can stop a Juggalo ninja once he starts swingin' his hatchet?" Violent J agreed.

Sonic ignored the charged words being spewed at him from the forked tongues of the Marxist lords. Instead, he kept his gaze fixated solely upon the tallest throne of them all and the baleful wraith sitting upon it.

The hedgehog furrowed his brow, "You may look like my old homie, but I'd recognize that foul reiatsu anywhere. You're Larry the Cable Guy, aren't you? I'm going to go ahead and guess that you hijacked Darkley's body as part of some fucked up plan of yours. Get down here and face me like a man, you goddamn _COWARD!"_

Nixon covered his ears in fear as his father raised his voice. Just as Sonic asked, Hellbane Larry jumped down from his throne and landed inches away from the fuckfurious hedgehog's face. The two burly warriors silently stared each other down in the midst of the storm. The blizzard around them grew more intense as a result of their proud spirits clashing, covering everything in sight with ice and snow.

The rioting prisoners beneath ceased their fighting and directed their gazes towards the hedgehog's firmly-muscled back. They waited with bated breath, eagerly anticipating his next move.

Hellbane Larry parted his arms and gave a short, sardonic laugh, "You're very observant. As much as I hate to say it, I've almost come to respect you after our many encounters. You remind me of myself from the days when I still believed that this failed nation was worthy of salvation. What else have you deduced about my plans?"

"I know enough to understand that you're the person that I need to kill to save this country. The fact that you were so desperate to steal the Lincoln Memorial told me everything I needed to know: you're after George Washington's Gifts, aren't you? And since you're obviously not allied with the Commies, I can only assume that you're with the Globetrotters. Sound about right?" Sonic asked, noting the surprise on his enemy's face over how much he had already learned.

"Most impressive. It appears my admiration of you as a fellow American wasn't misplaced. If you've already deduced my goal, then I'm sure you can tell that I've already absorbed the power from Washington's Gifts. In essence, I have become the ultimate being. There's just one thing standing between me and godhood: the legendary guitar of John Adams, the _Communist-Slayer!_ But just as I had anticipated, you took the bait I set out and brought it right to me. If you offer this final gift to me willingly, I promise that I will spare both you and your son. What say you, Sonic the Hedgehog?"

"Go to hell. I'd rather die on my feet than live grovelling before a monster like you," Sonic answered plainly. "Did you really think that I'd be stupid enough to just hand you one of the strongest magical artifacts ever crafted? You're an ever bigger dumbshit than I thought. I only brought it with me to see the look on your face when I ruin your plan!"

Without warning, Sonic unsheathed the legendary blade and snapped it in half like a twig. Even Larry couldn't help but stagger backwards in horror from what he had just done. A look of genuine rage spread across his face in response, completely uncharacteristic from his usual emotionless self.

The veins on Larry's head began to bulge from anger. He maintained his placid tone of voice while speaking, but his face was clearly flushed with rage, "My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my. You really do enjoy making things hellish for me, don't you? You must _REALLY_ want to die today…"

"I didn't come here just to die. For the last time in my life, I want to truly feel alive," Sonic admitted, shooting him a toothy, confident grin.

He reached into the guitar case on his back and removed his backup bass — the red axe-guitar that he used to wield long ago. George Costanza had reforged this ancient blade for him shortly before his arrival on the planet. Just as Larry had anticipated his actions, Sonic had done so as well and had already formulated a strategy to thwart him.

"...You've already dug your grave. I suppose it's only right that I lay you to rest in it," Larry spat, barely holding himself together. He raised his hand, signalling for the entire Communist army to step in and smite both Sonic and the prisoners he had freed. "You know what to do, men. Don't leave even a single survivor. _To WAR!"_

As soon as he gave the order, the gates to the Marxist stronghold opened and the hordes of the netherworld spilled out onto the frostbitten earth. In total, the Communist army was composed of roughly _five billion soldiers_ along with hundreds of thousands of battle-trolls, satanic dhampirs, ghastly moroi berserkers, cybernetically-enhanced Tyrannosaurus rexes, abyssal hellwyrms, and all other manner of inbred fuckbeasts.

Sonic stood tall and erect as the enraged army charged towards him, beaming like a lone star amongst a raging storm of socialist hellfuckery. His wispy chest hair fluttered in the icy wind and snow continued to pile atop his motorcycle jacket, but he refused to budge even an inch. He playfully ruffled the hair atop his son's head, "I know it's selfish of me, but I've got a favor to ask. Do you think you can help me, kiddo?"

Nixon nervously nodded his head. Sonic smiled, "Good. I knew you'd be brave just like your old man. Get these people to safety, ya hear? They need a strong leader like you. A fearless defender whose heart yearns only for the godless, kinky love of Lady Liberty. I'll hold these bastards off while you make your escape. Don't worry, kid; I won't die here. That's a promise!"

"...Alright, dad. I'll help them to evacuate the planet. But don't you dare get killed, alright? If you ever make mom cry again… _I'll kick your ass!"_ Richard Nixon threatened with a playful grin. Sonic lowered his head, immensely proud that his son already had the makings of a brave warrior.

The two men exchanged a nod before departing to their respective fates. No words were needed, for the cumbrous tongue of mortal men would only complicate the beautiful act that was the silent departure of two pious warrior kings. Sonic smiled tenderly as he watched both his son and the freed Americans disappear into the blizzard, knowing in his heart that this was the last time he would ever see them.

As soon as his allies had reached a safe distance, Sonic began to walk towards the unutterably massive host of Marxist soldiers. This army was several times the size of the one that Honest Abe faced during his attack on Wolfschanze. Despite this fact, Sonic showed no fear. He was determined to take them all out even if it meant forfeiting his life.

He took his guitar into his wizened fingers and began to pour his feelings into righteous song. He shredded the fuck out of his instrument harder than he ever had before, crafting a melody of beauty unequaled that rang all throughout the heavens and the earth.

"...I'm a red-blooded, rough-neck, son of a _BITCH!_ I'm a goddamned _**AMERICAN CAPITALIST**_ _!"_ Sonic howled into this cold Winter's night as he charged towards his enemy. He began swinging his blade with immeasurable grace and skill, spilling an entire tsunami's worth of blood and Communist entrails upon the fresh snow.

He skewered thousands of these wicked philistines as he forced his way into their midst, ramming right through their troop formations with the speed and power of a bullet train. Severed heads and limp bodies were launched into the air by the dozens as his fists slammed against the earth. The ground then folded in on itself, swallowing his fleeing opponents into the bowels of the netherworld.

Antifa soldiers entombed in robotic exoskeletons opened fire upon him without mercy. But Sonic was undeterred. He broke into a dash and ran towards them, taking every bullet flying his way without flinching, and caved in their skulls with several skillful chops of his hands.

He parted the advancing hordes of Marxists with his dual machine guns. Scores upon scores of them were utterly obliterated by his attack, but they were all soon replaced by the innumerable masses coming up from behind. There truly was no end to these faceless, snarling fuckbeasts masquerading as men.

The brutish hedgehog continued to decimate these soldiers without mercy. He treated them all exactly the same — young, elderly, man, and woman alike. The Communist-Hunter's judgement truly was dispassionate and merciless, comparable to the act of God wiping away the earth's innumerable sins with fire and brimstone, but it was still undeniably righteous.

Sonic ripped the arm off of a vampire and used it to bludgeon a Communist werewolf to death. While he was busy relishing the demise of his enemies, an impossibly vast siege beast emerged from a tunnel burrowed deep into the earth and swallowed Sonic whole.

Greatly infuriated, he cast his arms aside and began to pummel the intestines of this great wyrm with his cartilage-soaked fists. The behemoth let out a throaty whimper as it fell, crushing hundreds underneath its legendary girth. The fuckfurious hedgehog then cut his way out from the beast's stomach and continued to fight these ceaseless, inhumanly brutal armies, his body now soaked with viscous entrails.

A sizeable squadron of socialist mercenaries encircled him as soon as he exited the beast's stomach. They began to charge at him in unison, their spears and bayonets poised to slice his bronze-like skin. And while Sonic was able to shake off many of them, some managed to break past his defenses and pierce his flesh.

Communist snipers took aim while Sonic attempted to shake off the poison-tipped blades that were stuck through him. They fired with perfect accuracy, bringing this pious American to his knees with their storm of armor-piercing bullets.

Stray enemy soldiers dashed towards the commotion to add their own attacks to the mix. They threw everything they had at the downed hedgehog, riddling him with bullet holes, sword wounds, whip strikes, and even mortar shells directly to his face.

They continued to fire at him relentlessly until smoke billowed into the air and everything in sight reeked of gunpowder. The soldiers then lowered their weapons and silence fell over the land. Satisfied that they had annihilated every last trace of the patriotic hedgehog, the Communists departed in search of more Americans to slay.

 _"Heh…_ don't get so full of yourself. I barely even felt that!" The Marxists' mouths hung agape in horror as they heard a deep growl call out from the smoke behind them. Sonic's meaty fists reached out from the storm of dust, crushing the skull of an enemy soldier that was unfortunate enough to be standing in harm's way.

Sonic slowly swaggered out from the inferno of the blast, standing tall and erect on both feet. All ten thousand of his assailants stumbled backwards from terror, far too afraid to even raise their weapons against the unearthly monster towering over them.

He ripped out the head of an axe that was still embedded in his torso before speaking, "Did you really think that I'd go down that easily? I'm nothing like the defenseless, innocent souls that you've tortured here for the past century. Every single one of you could attack me at once, but it still wouldn't make any goddamn difference. I am… _SONIC THE MOTHERFUCKIN' HEDGEHOG!_ And I'm going to _MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!"_

The hedgehog's enemies recoiled in fear as he raised his guitar once more. They dropped their armaments and ran for safety as fast as their tiny legs could carry them. But unbeknownst to these wicked philistines, there was no place in the heavens or the earth where they would ever be safe from Sonic the Hedgehog's divine wrath.

Sonic split the entire continent in two with a mighty gorilla shout and a single slash of his guitar, utterly decimating Stalingrad Prison with it. Millions upon millions of Communists were consumed by the massive divide in the earth, burned to cinders by the planet's exposed core. Geysers of lava sprang forth from the soil and the screams of these pathetic fucklings rang eternally throughout the night. As foretold in legend **, it was metal as fuck**.

The Communist Underlords watched in awe at the apocalyptic level of destruction that Sonic had just caused. Casualties littered the ground, their bodies stacked high into fleshy piles that spanned for miles wide. Even Larry seemed appalled by the atrocities that he had witnessed.

In this moment, the Communist host truly learned the meaning of _fear._ Standing before them was a man who couldn't be bargained with. He couldn't be reasoned with. Pity, remorse, and fear were emotions all but unknown to him. And little did they know, Sonic's divine wrath had only just begun.

Hundreds among the Marxist army turned face and began running for their lives. Infuriated by their cowardice, Larry the Hellbane Guy slew all of these deserters with the powers granted to him by Shaquille O'Neal's MP3 player. He turned to those that had not perished from his first attack with a hostile glare, "Whether you stay or flee, death is all that awaits you. Fulfill your purpose by perishing for the glory of Communism!"

The hedgehog swaggered towards his inbred foes once more. Although his breathing was labored and blood soaked his body, his stride was still impossibly gallant and his brow stern. He took the time to tune his guitar while his enemy regrouped in preparation for their second strike.

Sonic's fingers began to dance upon the strings of his guitar, crafting a melody comparable in beauty to the singing of angels. Sonic began to sing in a deep, rich baritone that sent his enemies spiraling into a frenzy of terror. As has been passed down in legend forever since, this is what he sang:

 _"Fellow patriots, lend me your ear_

 _Light a blunt and crack open a cold beer_

 _There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief_

 _So listen close now, my friends_

 _I'm gonna make this tune brief…_

 _Freedom is my lady!_

 _She shines red, blue, and white_

 _Freedom is my lady!_

 _And we're gonna get it on tonight_

 _Freedom is my lady!_

 _She's my sweet patriotic baby_

 _Freedom is my lady!_

 _When it comes to lovin', it's yes or no, never maybe_

 _Freedom is my lady!_

 _She's sweet like Mountain Dew™ in ice_

 _Freedom is my lady!_

 _She's gonna take me to paradise!"_

Sonic continued to decimate the fuck out of the faceless hordes as he shredded the fuck out of his guitar, his head thrashing all the while. He launched himself into a platoon of T-Rexes with his fists flailing about wildly. These beasts were sent flying by his combination of fuckferocious strikes, their skulls shattered and their scaly throats caved in.

The Communist Underlords could only watch in awe as Sonic suplexed an army of battle-trolls to death one by one. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Leonid Brezhnev jumped down from his throne and broke into a mad dash towards the Communist-Hunter.

His fellow lords soon joined him in his vengeful attack. While Sonic was able to butcher their subjects with ease, he quickly found himself struggling against his new opponents. He pushed his mortal flesh far beyond its limits as he countered all of their enraged strikes with his guitar, fists, and feet.

Sonic grabbed Enver Hoxha and Rosa Luxemburg by the back of their heads and smashed their faces together, nearly shattering their skulls. The hedgehog winced as he felt a sharp pain run up his spine. He turned around to find that Violent J's hatchet and entered his back, severing one of his vertebrae.

Pol Pot took advantage of Sonic's injury by hewing off his left hand with a stroke of his machete. The pain from this attack brought Sonic to his knees, but the prideful hedgehog still refused to fall upon his face before his greatest enemy. Their tempers inflamed by his stubborn refusal to yield, the Underlords formed a firing line and began to fill this pious American warrior with lead.

Sonic tumbled across the ground as a result of their attack. A pool of blood began to form under the patch of earth where he laid. His vision grew hazy, and his breathing shallow. He attempted to stand, but found the muscles in his legs unresponsive to his commands. He could only stare into the sky as all of his lifeblood fled from his body and snow piled on top of him.

The hedgehog reached his remaining hand towards his guitar, a task he was only barely able to accomplish due to his diminished vision. He cursed his weakness, "Dammit, body! Don't give out now. I can't afford to die here. Nixon and the others haven't even escaped yet. I can't die now. I... _**REFUSE**!"_

The patriotic hedgehog used his guitar as leverage to stand. Although his legs trembled uncontrollably with each step, his makeshift cane was able to keep him steady as he trudged through the snow. He began limping towards his enemy as quickly his ruined body could carry him, fully aware that this would be his final stand against the foe he had devoted his life to vanquishing.

The mere sight of this broken man continuing to fight his greatest enemy was powerful enough to make Larry rise from the comfort of his chair. Although he was assured in his own safety, all of his hairs stood on end. He was shaking in his boots. The brother of Honest Abe was dumbfounded — it had been millions of years since he had felt any emotion as strong as this. What was this feeling? Hatred? Shock? Disgust? Perhaps it was something even greater. In that moment, he came face to face with an emotion that he had never known in all of his long life: _fear._

But what was it about this half-dead American that could inspire such a feeling? There was nothing he could to stop him. Larry was even confident that he could strike this man down with a single attack. Nonetheless, he was terrified of him all the same. He felt tiny, wretched, and powerless. Sonic was truly a pitiable sight to behold, with unfocused, bloodshot eyes and his body littered with bloody gashes and bullet holes. But at the same time, Larry couldn't shake the feeling that this walking cadaver of a man was still infinitely more powerful than he could ever hope to be.

Here was a man that, even when on death's door, was still both solemn and beautiful. He did not yield, and he did not run. Even when faced with his own fleeting mortality, he continued to live with the utmost pride and dignity just as his forefathers once had. And this is what terrified the man formerly known as Larry the Cable Guy most of all. Only one question was at the forefront of his mind: _would death even be enough to stop Sonic from achieving his dream?_

"You red bastards don't scare me!" Sonic howled into the twilit sky. He lifted up a tank by its gun and swung it around himself, pummeling dozens of his churlish adversaries to death with this makeshift cudgel. He took a dozen harpoons to his stomach as he did so, but even this wasn't enough to make him fall.

The muzzle flash of his machine gun lit up the night as he gunned down his enemy without mercy. He continued to bisect them by the hundreds with his guitar, fending off a veritable fuckstorm of grenades and cannon shots as he did so.

"Enver Hoxha... Paula Deen... Vladimir Lenin... Pube-Slayer... the Monstars... Joseph Stalin... Taylor Swift... Gary Coleman... Adam Sandler... Che Guevara... Leonid Brezhnev... Brendan Fraser... Garfield... Mark Zuckerberg... Larry the Cable Guy... You Communist motherfuckers have tried to kill me so many damn times. But you know what? I always win! _EVERY! SINGLE! TIME!"_ Sonic boasted as he threw himself back into the fray.

His frenzied movements grew slower with every bullet he took. But even at his weakest, Sonic's current strength was still more than enough to deal with the Marxist armies. Sonic's red, white, and blue blood had all but run dry after several more hours of gruesome battle. His enemy was decimated, with only a few million still scattered amongst the flame and rubble.

Sonic opened his weary eyes, only to find the blurry silhouette of what he assumed to be Hellbane Larry standing before him. He smirked, "Bout time you showed up, you goddamned pinko."

"How… how are you still standing? What causes you to fight?" The man asked, genuinely curious. "I've long since grown weary. Weary of the blade, weary of battle. Weary of even living. My devotion to this country is all that drives me now. What drives you to continue fighting even when you don't have the power to change anything? When this world has rejected you at every turn, scorning your way of life? How have you not given in to the sheer despair of it all?"

"It's because this is where I stand. If I back down even an inch from where I stand, people will die. Good, innocent people. I haven't deluded myself into thinking that I can change the whole world in my lifetime. Hell, maybe you're right and I can't change a damn thing. But if I fight, I can save some of those people that love this beautiful country just as much as I do. Maybe I can't save all of them, and maybe they'll die once I'm gone. But if they live, they'll follow in my footsteps. They'll enact the change that I never could. That's why I have to try to save this world even if it's a hopeless effort. A coward like you could never understood a cause as selfless as that. This is where I stand! And where I stand... _is where I've chosen to die!"_ Sonic answered.

Larry shook his head and sighed, "You're unbearably naive. Perhaps that's what's so terrifying about you. You continue to chase this impossible goal of 'saving America' when it's already beyond saving. And there's nothing more terrifying than a well-armed fool who truly believes that his will is right. To be frank, I've had quite enough of these games. I'm going to kill you now."

Silence fell over the battlefield as both Sonic and Larry readied their weapons. Their battle was over in seconds, decided by a single attack. Sonic and Hellbane Larry lunged at one another with their respective weapons, but only one of these blows found its mark

"...Bastard. You're quicker than you look," Larry spoke with a snarl. He looked down at the guitar impaled through his torso, an attack dealt to him by none other than the Communist-Hunter. In that single fleeting instant, infinitely faster than the blink of an eye, Sonic dove under his enemy's katana and stabbed him through the stomach with his own guitar.

Fully drained of his energy, Sonic fell to the snow with a look of satisfaction plastered across his face. Blood streamed from Larry's torso as he limped over to where Sonic laid. Their gazes met, and despite having only been dealt a shallow wound that he would soon recover from, he still couldn't shake the feeling that he had been utterly defeated by the man collapsed at his feet.

Larry finished their fight by driving his blade right through Sonic's heart while he laid on the ground defenseless. Blood spewed from his mouth as his life was forced from him. Unable to muster the strength to move a muscle, his head rested limply on the snow-covered earth. Larry broke off eye contact with Sonic and moved away, satisfied that he had finally extinguished all resistance to his goal.

Sonic's life flashed before his eyes as he bled out on the snow. He reminisced about his life and accomplishments, remembering all of the allies he had made along the way as well as those who given their lives to deliver him to safety. He recalled every moment that had led him to this outcome, both good and bad.

He remembered the wise teachings of Abraham Lincoln, the hard battles he had fought with Michael Jordan, the love he had for Anne Frank, the joys of being a father that Charles Barkley had helped him learn, the laughs he had shared with Alex Jones, and the respect he had for Jimmy Neutron's devotion to God. And as for Donald Trump… he cherished the moments he had spent with him most of all. Never before had he met a man that he trusted so implicitly. Just as Trump was willing to die for him, Sonic would do the same in a heartbeat.

Sonic closed his eyes. Despite having reached the end of his life, he was not bitter. Although his destiny was to die alone in the cold without any of his loved ones by his side, he did not resent this grim fate. Rather, he was relieved. Relieved that he could pass on his own terms as a fulfilled man without any regrets.

"My child… it's finally time for us to be reuinted. Come — the White House is awaiting your arrival," Abraham Lincoln said, bowing his head before him. Sonic gazed upon the faint shape of the heavenly president in the clouds with the spirits of the Biker Brethren standing next to him, reciprocating their kind smiles. He knew in his heart that this was the end. But he had no intention of going quietly into the cold, grey night.

Larry the Cable Guy stopped and turned back as he heard his mortally wounded foe manage a weak, barely audible laugh. The hedgehog unbuttoned his biker jacket to reveal the metric ton of C-4 explosives tied around his waist. In one last act of defiance, Sonic removed the joint from his lips and used it to light the fuse. "...Looks like it's time to die. _**God bless America**."_

Explosions lit up the night like fireworks as Sonic detonated the explosives. The continent's surface was reduced to boiling slag in an instant, engulfing everything for miles in flames. The remaining Communists were burned to cinders and blown away by the wind. With his last breath, Sonic the Hedgehog had won.

When the smoke cleared, the only things that remained were the ash-covered earth and the charred foundation of Stalingrad that loomed over it. Of the five billion soldiers that Sonic had gone up against, under a thousand of them still remained. The rest had been obliterated in the most righteous show of heavenly, star-spangled fuckfury that the Americaverse had ever witnessed.

As foretold in legend, it was the most metal act that had ever occurred.

* * *

The surviving Americans watched the inferno billow and dance in the night sky from a safe distance. Nixon clenched his fists, choking back tears for the father he had barely even known. Barack Obama rested a caring hand upon the boy's shoulder. He stood by him as he wept without restraint, his tears putting out the embers at his feet.

"Sonic… that crazy bastard. He really went and did it, didn't he? God… I really hate Mondays," Garfield murmured under his breath, standing at Mercenary Pooh's side as they watched the aftermath of the war. Pooh had personally taken it upon himself to free Garfield from Larry's dungeon while Sonic was busy engaging his army. He had intended to join him once he had delivered the imprisoned man-cat to safety, but he had arrived far too late.

"Looks like we'll never be able to have that rematch after all, stars and stripes. Sayanora, defender of America. I'm really gonna miss you. Our time together was brief, but I enjoyed every moment fighting beside you whack-ass bikers," Pooh offered his final eulogy, delivering a tearful salute to the hedgehog's fiery grave.

Garfield joined Pooh as he did so. Only now, at the end of everything, did he truly understand how grave his error of joining the Backstreet Boys was. If he had merely accompanied him on the eve of his quest six years ago, perhaps things could have been different. Perhaps he could have even saved Sonic from his fate. The thought made Garfield drop his stoic persona and break down. He fell to his knees, crying the name of his fallen comrade into the sky and cursing himself for not standing by his side.

"Sonic… where are you? If you're here, say something!" Donald Trump called out into the starless night. He combed through the ruins of Stalingrad with his makeshift army, dispatching every wayward Communist they found along the way.

Trump's heart sank as he saw Alex Jones's search party walking towards them. The water-filter salesman shook his head, too heartbroken to even get the words out of his mouth. He removed his shutter shades and delivered the heart-wrenching news after a long silence, "Little cuz... I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do. _He... he's gone."_

Alex cradled Sonic's charred body in his arms. He rested his remains upon the ash for all of their men to behold, tears streaming down his face as he did so. Floored by what he had just witnessed, Trump became truly inconsolable. "Sonic…? _**SOOOOONIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC**!"_

At the age of seven hundred and fifty-six, Sonic the Hedgehog had passed.


	42. God Is Calling Me Back Home

_**SONIC THE HEDGEHOG: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN FINALE**_ — _**THE SIEGE OF STALINGRAD III**_

 _ **Part 2 -** **God Is Calling Me Back Home**_

 _After a long, grueling battle with his greatest enemy, Sonic has finally succumbed to the might of Communism. However, he was able to deal them a crushing blow before his death. Will Donald Trump's Space Force be able to finish what he started?_

* * *

 **AGE 1776 B.C. (Before the Rise of Communism)**

"John, Dr. Dre, Oscar, Ice Cube… I pray that you'll find it in your hearts to forgive this pathetic old fool. I failed you all," Meadowlark Lemon spoke in a somber tone.

His hair swayed in the wind while he stood before the graves of his fallen comrades. He knelt down and began to whistle the angelic tune of "Sweet Georgia Brown" in tribute to them, longing for the days of his youth. For the days before the _N.W.A._ met its tragic end.

Meadowlark shook his head as he heard the sound of footsteps coming from behind. "...Jon Arbuckle. How long have you been standing there?"

This paragon of American masculinity approached the grieving man, his chainsaw-nunchucks already revved up in preparation of a duel to the death. Lemon could only sigh in response to his friend's blatantly hostile intentions.

"Please, don't give me that look. It was bad enough having the rest of the N.W.A turn on me. Must I lose my only remaining friend?" The man pleaded.

Arbuckle chose not to dignify his words with a response, shooting him a murderous glare instead. His silent response told Meadowlark everything he needed to know. He lowered his gaze, crestfallen and on the verge of tears.

"Stop that. Don't look at me as if I'm some monster. I… I had no choice but to kill them! The Harlem Globetrotters are doing what must be done to free this world from the absolute despair of fate! You should understand my motives better than anyone else. Why… why do you insist on raising your hand against me?" Meadowlark asked.

The musclebound cartoonist shook his head. "You still don't understand anything, old friend. Every civilization, no matter how great, must eventually end. What happened to our people, the Native Americans, was a tragedy, but we cannot condemn the future of the new Americans just because our own legacy was cut short. That's your greatest flaw: you still cannot see the beauty of these humble patriots. You have no right to commit genocide against them just to satiate your lust for vengeance! Your hatred has made you just as cruel as the God you despise!"

"You're still disgustingly sentimental, Jon. Taking those two cats as your apprentices has clouded your judgement. Those mongrels don't deserve our aid, nor do they deserve the namesake of the _true_ Americans that they took as their own! They are nothing but fodder for my experiments. And once they finish serving that purpose, I'll wipe those subhuman creatures you call 'patriots' from the face of the earth and start anew. And if you still refuse to step aside, then I'm afraid that you'll have to share their fate," Meadowlark threatened, raising his voice over the crackling of thunder in the sky.

He raised his hand, signalling for his genetically-engineered super soldiers to step in and kill him just as he had killed the rest of the N.W.A. All five of the _Super Globetrotters_ emerged from the shadows and launched themselves at Jon Arbuckle. However, their paltry strength was nothing before the might of this legendary Sunday Funnies warlord.

Jon effortlessly bifurcated Liquid Man and Gizmo, crushed the skulls of Spaghetti Man and Super Sphere, and sliced off the head of Multi Man. He then directed his bloody chainsaws towards Meadowlark Lemon with a smile. _"Your move, fuckboy."_

The commander of the Globetrotters removed his electric guitar from its case. He raised his iron-forged blade, but didn't appear enthused in the slightest at the prospect of having to slay his former friend. Spears of lightning struck the ground as the two legendary warriors ran towards each other and began their heated fight.

After seven straight weeks of bitter conflict, the victor was decided. Jon Arbuckle fell in battle to Meadowlark Lemon. By the time that Garfield and Nermal discovered their master's corpse, it was already too late. However, in one last act of defiance, Jon split his corpse into a dozen pieces to prevent his enemy from recovering the Gift of Washington he possessed.

All of the pieces on the board had fallen, and the stage was now set for war. Only two more components were needed for the Harlem Globetrotters to complete their master plan: the Gifts of Washington, and a vessel strong enough to contain their almighty power.

And with the unbeatable Larry the Cable Guy at their side, their plan may just come to fruition...

 **AGE 2010 P.A. (Shortly After Sonic's Death)**

"May Abe Lincoln-sama welcome you into the heavenly White House with open arms, may every American fallen in battle before you angelically cry out the hallowed name of Sonic the Hedgehog with love and honor, and may you ascend to your rightful place in the oval office and live as a patriot among patriots for time eternal. Today we lay to rest a great man: an American, a warrior, a hunter of Communists, a father, and to all of us, a friend," Garfield orated in a broken voice.

The Americans gathered for his funeral were unable to hold back their greasy tears as Sonic was laid to rest. As was tradition for time immemorial, his corpse was set ablaze with a flaming arrow and his remains were picked apart by a flock of ravenous bald eagles.

Sonic's headstone read "Kiss my ass, bitches. I'm out." He had chosen these final words before his passing to try and bring some comfort to his allies, showing them that he had remained strong and defiant right up until the bitter end. However, the air was still and the crowd gathered for him was humorless. All his loved ones could do was grieve.

Anne Frank approached the hedgehog's grave to pay her respects, clad from head to toe in black. She fell on her knees, and as if a dam had burst, she began bawling her eyes out harder than ever before. She once wished that she could feel the same feelings of joy and pain as her beloved kinsmen. But now that she had finally gained the emotions she had long sought after, all she wanted was to return to her old self just to be free of this pain.

Richard Nixon rested his hand on his mother's shoulder, trying his best to comfort her. He stiffened his back to stand tall and proud before his father's final resting place. The Timbs he had to fill were terrifyingly large, but he was determined to live up to his father's legacy.

"Sayanora, dad. I… I won't let you down, alright? I'll become the American I know that you'd want me to be. I'll protect mom and everyone else, and I won't let this country you loved so much fall into Communism's hands!" Nixon spoke with a smile. Despite his determined voice, anyone could see that he was on the verge of tears.

Jimmy Neutron closed his bible and gave a long, hard sigh, "Sonic was like cheap toilet paper. Rough as hell and didn't take shit from anybody. He was gruff, stubborn, and hard to get along with in almost every way. But despite all that, he was one of the best damn guys I've ever met. Please show some mercy on that bitch-ass sinner, O' lord. If any of us deserve to enter the eternal kingdom, it's him."

"Smell ya later, little cuz…" Alex Jones stiffened his upper lip and saluted his fallen brother in arms.

Alex remained uncharacteristically silent despite the situation. To an outsider, it would almost seem as if Sonic's death hadn't fazed him in the slightest. But this couldn't be further from the truth. The water filter salesman knew that if he allowed himself to face his feelings and grieve for even a moment, that he would fall apart from the sheer despair of it all.

"Tell me something, Meth. Will things get better after this?" RZA asked, clutching his stocking hat tightly against his chest. "I can't imagine there ever being another man quite like Sonic. How can anyone else be that great? That selfless? That patriotic? He truly was the defender of America. What will become of this country now that he's gone?"

Method Woman shook her head, a grim look plastered across her face. She seemed unsure of the answer herself. _"Death. Reflection. Terror. Rebirth. Sacrifice. Betrayal._ From the apotheosis of our progenitors was spawned the greatest threat causality shall ever face. And when he reveals his true intent, the cycle of time that dictates our world shall finally come to a close."

The stalwart members of the Space Force turned to Donald Trump for guidance. The flaxen-haired dreamboat sat on a hill that overlooked the horizon, not having joined them for the funeral. Trump wasn't one to participate in such gatherings, choosing to deal with his grief on his own terms.

"What do we do now, Trump-san? You're the boss now that Sonic's gone. Are we just going to parts ways?" Yogi Bear asked. The rest of the American soldiers gathered around him, adding their own questions to the mix.

Trump remained silent. However, he furrowed his brow in disgust as he saw some of the Space Force members walk off in the opposite direction. He blew a great swell of fire into their path, stopping them from leaving.

"What do you think Sonic would have done in this situation, Mr. Bear?" Trump questioned. "That man would never give up so easily. The Communists' main force may have been obliterated, but their fortress still stands. I have no doubt that their leaders survived his onslaught. I plan to kill them all and finish what he started all those years ago!"

Donald's hostile tone faded away, and he cracked a wry grin. He spoke to them while walking towards the door to Fidel Castro's ruined castle, "I'm going in by myself. If anyone else among you are prepared to die, then you're welcome to join me. Just try not to slow me down. I'm going to smother this whole damn planet in a gorgeous inferno of yuge blue flames, and I'll kill anyone who tries to stop me! I'll turn this whole galaxy into a socialist graveyard the likes of which no one has ever seen!"

"Well said, laddy. I'm finally starting to understand why Sonic put so much faith in you. I think I speak for everyone here when I say that we're not going anywhere," Garfield chuckled. "Let's kick some Commie ass!"

The portly man-cat lifted up his gargantuan nunchuks and began wildly swinging them over his head. Pooh loaded his sniper rifle, Anne Frank turned both of her arms into machine guns, RZA donned his iron fists, Alex Jones threw back one of his supplements, Kanye West transformed himself into a dragon, Jordan Peterson uncovered his mutated arm, Taylor Swift entered into her beast mode, and Jimmy Neutron unsheathed his cane sword.

With an unspoken agreement, this army of righteous patriots kicked down the door and marched to their final confrontation without fear. They all shouted in unison, "It's time to _ROCK THE FUCK OUT!"_

"They're getting closer, father. What should we do?" Crazy Frog asked in a frightened voice. He shuddered as he heard the sounds of motorcycle engines revving and electric guitars being tuned.

"Fear not, my children," Larry the Hellbane Guy said. He sat comfortably atop his throne, not seeming concerned in the least with the impending battle. "Let them come. I shall not let any harm befall my beloved family. You're all safe with me. No matter what happens, I won't ever let you go…"

"Who the fuck is he talkin' to? Has that honky-possessed mandigo lost his goddamn mind?" Enver Hoxha murmured under his breath. He narrowed his gaze, watching as Larry held a conversation with the ether.

"He's been doing that for the past five hours. I don't really understand the details, but it seems like his entire squad turned on him and he had to kill 'em all. He wrote a check that his heart couldn't cash, and now it's eating him alive," Rosa Luxemberg explained.

Enver would be lying if he said that he didn't pity their captor on some level. "Damn. That's pretty fuckin' rough. I just hope that he can hold onto his sanity long enough to keep us safe from those goddamn barbarians knocking at our doorstep."

The Underlords' chatter was interrupted when Larry suddenly raised his hand. He spoke in a low voice, sounding just as calm and dignified as always despite his crumbling psyche, "Have you forgotten why I made you my vassals in the first place, dear socialists? It is finally time for you to prove the worth of your existence. Crush the American scum before they breach these walls!"

The Hellbane Guy was hard at work attempting to repair Sonic's ruined guitar. Any interruption would surely disrupt the spell he was using to mend it, making the destruction of the Space Force key to his plans. Trump would need to hurry before Larry could finally attain godhood, making victory against him a hopeless effort.

The bikers slammed their feet on the brakes of their choppers as a storm of light particles rained down upon them. Hindering their progression was none other than Leon Trotsky, who was entombed in his newest model of cybernetic battle armor.

"We don't have time to fight these fuckboys one by one. The longer we wait, the less of an advantage we have against the Backstreet Boys. We need to strike before they can recover from the damage Sonic-kun inflicted upon them!" Trump spoke with a snarl, narrowing his gaze towards the churlish Marxist hovering overhead.

"Fear not, Donarudo Toranpu-dono! I shall defeat this honorless gaijin here, de gozaru. Go on ahead without me!" Waluigi insisted. This fundoshi-clad kabukimono unsheathed his sword of indomitable Nippon craftsmanship, prepared to fight for the honor of his star-spangled kinspeople.

Trump bowed his head in gratitude to the honorable shinobi. As soon as the Space Force entered the next chamber, the door behind them sealed shut. They were then ambushed by a flurry of 1,488 hatchets hurled in their direction.

"Don't even think about laying a finger on this one, brother-man," RZA growled from behind his gritted teeth, barely holding himself together. Standing before them was none other than Violent J, the mastermind behind the Gathering of the Juggalos and the fall of Wu-Tang Prime.

The rest of the Wu-Tang Clan, along with the Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past, stood by the vengeful ronin's side as engaged his greatest enemy. "Don't worry about me! You've got your own destiny to fulfill, right? _GO!"_

The rest of the Space Force followed suit, splitting apart to tackle the Underlords that blocked their path. By the time they reached Castro's throne room, only Donald Trump, Alex Jones, Jimmy Neutron, Garfield, Winnie the Pooh, Kanye West, Jordan Peterson, and Ice Cube remained.

Trump stared down Sonic's mortal enemy without fear. Like some ancient god his power erupted outwards, filling the chamber with the seraphic light of his soul and loins. He had accepted his mortality, embraced it. In accepting he had conquered, ready to drink death like water. He had gone beyond life and death. Here, in this moment, Donald Trump was Helios.

"My, my, my, my, my. I commend you eight on making it this far. You're quite the tenacious bunch, aren't you?" Larry observed. He dropped the broken pieces of the Communist-Slayer, left with no choice but to fend them off using only his current strength. However, despite being totally outnumbered, his confidence wasn't shaken in the slightest.

A dark energy spread throughout the chamber as Larry stepped down from his throne. A choir of satanic howls rang in the bikers' ears as he walked towards them with a dignified gait, signalling the arrival of the dreaded one. A great and terrible theophany he was, with a dozen angelic wings sprouting forth from his basketball jersey and a crown of thorns upon his bald head. There was no doubt in Trump's mind that the monster standing before them was none other than belial in the flesh.

Larry the Hellbane Guy contorted his lips into a pleased simper at his enemies' expressions. He giggled in the voice of a cherubim, "No more games. This time, I'm not holding anything back. I believe it's finally time… to _Git-R-Done."_

 **LARRY THE HELLBANE GUY** — **Ability Name:** **「** **Midgets and Gay Bars** **」**


	43. Advent of Hitokiri Waluigi

_**SONIC THE HEDGEHOG: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN FINALE**_ — _**THE SIEGE OF STALINGRAD III**_

 _ **Part 3 - Advent of Hitokiri Waluigi**_

 _Donald Trump and the Space Force are determined to finish the quest that Sonic the Hedgehog started. But how will they fare against Larry the Cable Guy and his army of indomitable Underlords?_

* * *

"Watching the weak die truly is a wretched sight. You should understand that I derive no enjoyment from this solemn duty. Hurry up and perish," Larry the Hellbane Guy ordered in a cold, unfeeling voice.

All eight of his challengers laid with their faces to the ground. Their resistance had been obliterated within seconds, leaving them so badly wounded that they could barely even stand. Even Ice Cube had been defeated.

The sheer feeling of despair these Americans had tried their hardest to overcome sank deeply into their minds, showing them just how hopeless surpassing this foe was. The power of Washington's Gifts truly was without equal.

"Oh, bother... y'know, I'm starting to really fuckin' hate this guy," Pooh groaned. The bear tried to use some debris as leverage to stand, but quickly fell back to his knees from the severity of his wounds. He swore in response.

Pooh chambered another round and fired at Larry's head. Much to his horror, the Cable Guy caught the bullet between his fingers and flicked it back at him, piercing one of his lungs.

Blood dribbled down Donald Trump's lip as he tottered to his feet. He narrowed his gaze in annoyance as their challenger turned his back to them, not even considering their resistance worthy of crushing. He spread his angelic wings, and with a snap of his fingers a blinding light filled the room.

The ground quaked as the castle's structure rearranged itself according to the Cable Guy's will. The cold, stone walls of this former penal colony transformed themselves into glistening chalcedony, and the concrete floor into marble. The entire castle soon took on an appearance befitting Larry's angelic form, turning from a pile of crumbling masonry blocks into a gleaming white spire that stretched high above the clouds.

"This place shall become the foundation for a new world. The one, true world of which the almighty God shall rule over in the flesh!" Larry boomed. He lowered himself onto his throne, his tattered B-Ball jersey reforming into golden battle armor truly befitting a king. "I give this all to you, master. My savior, the one whose heavenly light washed over my unseeing eyes: the Angel of the Bottomless Pit, _Meadowlark Lemon!"_

"Your God, huh?" Trump scoffed. "I never would have guessed that a man of your strength would be playing second fiddle to anyone. If I'm not mistaken, this 'Meadowlark' character is the mastermind behind the Globetrotters, correct? Is he the one who told you to slaughter the Backstreet Boys like animals?"

Larry was infuriated by his provocation. He rushed at Donald at an incalculable speed, pummeling his body with a flurry of enraged punches. His attacks were so relentless that the flaxen-haired warlord couldn't even get a single hit in before being elbowed through a wall. He finished his attack by stomping on his spine, mangling it beyond repair.

Jordan Peterson activated his _Sharingan,_ but even his enhanced sight couldn't enable him to read the Cable Guy's attacks. He gasped, "W-What the hell is this guy? Is he even human? Wait, don't tell me… is that godlike speed from his _Patriotic Drive?!"_

"This is for Steve Buscemi, you heartless _BASTARD!"_ Garfield roared. He swung his twin saws into the back of Larry's skull, but was rendered speechless when they shattered upon impact.

Larry grabbed Garfield by the back of the head and forced his knee into his stomach. The man-cat keeled over on his raised leg in pain, gagging on his own blood from the internal bleeding his kick had caused. The impact alone had been enough to rupture all of his organs.

Garfield winced as Larry lifted him up by the throat. The blue collar comedian tightened his grip, contemplating whether he should take the life of his apprentice.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and all of the memories of the Backstreet Boys' demise suddenly flooded back into Larry's mind. Even thinking about that fateful day was enough to make him retch.

Larry dropped Garfield back to the ground mere seconds before his vise-like grip could cave in the his throat. He then turned his back to him, clutching his face in shame. Even after everything that had happened between them, he still couldn't stomach the idea of slaying another one of his beloved children.

Larry clutched his forehead and howled with pain. He stumbled backwards, screaming his lungs out as the traumatic memories of that fateful day played ceaselessly in his mind. Every death, every scream for mercy, every look of utter terror he beheld on the faces of his children played on loop, breaking his fractured psyche even further.

"Really? Tears? Give it up already, nobody's going to fall for that!" Garfield snapped as he watched this detestable eremite break down. "What does a monster like you have to mourn? You've never cared for anyone in your entire goddamn life! You even slaughtered your own 'family' without hesitation the second they turned against you!"

Garfield's scathing words cut deep into Larry's psyche. He thought back to days long since past where the man-cat hung on his every word, practically worshiping the ground he walked on. Out of all of his children, Garfield was always the one he had been most proud of. He wished he could return to those days now more than ever.

"I… I never wanted for things to end this way," Larry stammered, his voice hoarse from screaming. "Do you really think that I'm such a remorseless monster that I don't regret what happened? That I haven't agonized day and night over that decision? But for America's sake, I'd gladly do it again. I'd kill them a thousand times more if I had to. _I will fulfill my destiny even if the guilt drives me insane!"_

The monstrous Communist lord was interrupted by the sound of Trump's impossibly smug laughter. He turned up his nose in disgust, already beginning to feel the same hatred towards this man that he had once felt towards Sonic.

"What's wrong, fuckboy? You look disgusting, nipples protruding. Very, very shameful!" Trump cackled as he sauntered over to where his enemy stood, snapping his fingers with each step. "It would seem that you're not as impervious as I originally thought. Even a man like you has a weakness, hm? I should be thanking you, really. That attack of yours finally worked out the kink in my back! I haven't felt this good in centuries. My symphony of death has only just begun!"

 _"Arrivederci, retard-kun!"_ Donald Trump guffawed with sadistic, lusty glee. He wrapped his fist in one of his brick gauntlets and socked Hellbane Larry in the jaw, launching him through his throne and into the wall.

The mouths of the Space Force members hung agape from witnessing this miraculous feat. Larry's pudgy digits trembled as he paused to wipe the blood from his mouth. Clearly, he was every bit as shocked as they were.

Trump took a gentlemanly sip from his glass of champagne and did the tango with the air just to spite his foe. His skin transformed into golden scales and a pair of frayed wings sprouted from his back, completing his transformation into his Dragonborn state.

Donald Trump smugly beckoned Hellbane Larry forth with one finger. "Come at me, fuckboy! I'm getting all turned on just thinking about burning you to cinders! This is for Sonic-kun!"

* * *

"Domo, ye' foul Marxist. Ore ha _Waruīji_ degozaru. I am a samurai hailing from the secret ninja village of Detroit, Michigan. In the name of my honorable kinspeople, I shall not allow you to leave this place alive!" Waluigi introduced himself with a humble _ojigi._

Waluigi whipped out his _shamisen_ and played a furious riff upon it, striking fear into the heart of his sodomy-loving foe. This honorable plumber's tengu-like nose glistened with sweat as his nimble fingers danced upon the strings of his instrument. He thrashed his head wildly to the beat, his _chonmage_ coming loose and swaying in the wind.

Leon Trotsky was undeterred by this display of righteous, oriental fury. He turned up his nose in disgust, snickering at how Waluigi intended to fight his advanced technology using only a katana.

"Surely you jest, you foolish American! Do you really think you can pierce my steel armor with that puny slab of metal? Don't make me laugh! You're nothing but a worn-out relic of the past. On the other hand, my Cyber-Communism is the _FUTURE!_ What do you think your feeble hands of flesh can do when faced with the coming singularity?" This foul transhumanist sneered from the safety of his armor.

Mumble rap began blaring from the speakers on Trotsky's battle mech. His groin moved with a spasmodic lack of grace to this repugnant melody, shaking to and fro as he flossed aggressively.

Waluigi was clearly disgusted by the display. The aesthetics of our modern westernized world repulsed him deeply, just as they would any upright man of the cloth. It took every ounce of Waluigi's willpower to stop himself from committing _hara-kiri_ right then and there just to escape from the depraved display.

Luckily, Waluigi's strong sense of honor forbade him from ending his life over such a trifling manner. Instead, he slathered his face with kumadori face paint and removed his _ōdachi_ from its sheath.

Waluigi's weapon of choice was a two-handed blade forged by an expert craftsman that he had dubbed _"Nikubou."_ A storm of sakura petals seemed to float alongside his sword with each swing, denoting its otherworldly powers. It is rumored that this blade was even wielded by Detroit's shogun at some point in the Edo period.

"So you don't intend to run? You poor fool! Your backwards way of life shall soon be replaced by the superior aesthetics of the future. Against an evolved posthuman such as myself, you are _NOTHING!"_ Trotsky cackled, his synthesized voice sounding more akin to a monotonous whine than the speech of a man.

Waluigi shook his head in response to the man's ignorance. "Me, a fool? You'd do well not to underestimate a samurai, _degozaru._ Even your mightiest gaijin technology cannot slay a man armed with a blade forged from legendary _Nippon_ craftsmanship! To be honest, I'd rather not kill you. Doing so would only tarnish my blade. But if you force my hand, I'll do what must be done!"

The Communist opened fire with his gatling gun arm. Waluigi dashed across the chamber, narrowly avoiding the storm of bullets trailing behind him. Trotsky fired a heat-seeking missile to obstruct his path, but he sliced it in two with his sword and kept running.

Enraged by Waluigi's skillful dodging, Leon upheaved the floor with his metallic fists and launched a flurry of massive concrete blocks at him. The cunning samurai merely smirked as he hunched down into his unsheathing stance. He hacked apart all of the debris flying his way with naught but a single stroke of his sword, dicing them into millions of pieces with ease.

Waluigi cleared the gap between them in an instant, his _khakkara_ poised to strike. The limbs of Trotsky's mech flailed about wildly, desperately trying to crush him before his attack could land. However, the speed of a mere machine couldn't hope to keep up with Waluigi's skillful _aragoto_ movements.

Trotsky yowled in pain as Waluigi's sword pierced straight through the glass of his cockpit and into his stomach. He forced him out of the mech and tossed his battered body to the ground, disconnecting him from the hundreds of multicolored wires that dug into his skin.

 _"Wah,_ degozaru! You fought honorably for a Communist. As thanks for giving me such an enjoyable duel, I shall bring a painless end to your life," Waluigi said, bowing his head. He offered a small prayer before swinging his blade downwards. " _...Namu."_

The events that transpired afterwards left Waluigi speechless. Although his blade dug deep into his opponent's skull, Leon Trotsky continued to draw breath. The samurai stumbled backwards as the man rose to his feet and ambled towards him with an unsteady gait, the blade still embedded between his eyebrows.

Trotsky cracked a smug grin at Waluigi's baffled expression. "I suppose this must seem like witchcraft for a man as primitive as yourself. Your flesh, your muscles, even your brain… everything about you repulsive organics has already been outmoded. My body has been altered into the perfect fusion between man and machine! And if you refuse to evolve such as I have… you will be forgotten and left to perish in antiquity!"

Leon's mechanical brain whirred with the sound of electricity as he removed the blade from his cranium. The vengeful cyborg socked Waluigi in the stomach, pulverizing his intestines with the same speed and power of a hydraulic press. He then transmogrified both of his arms into machine guns and opened fire.

Waluigi deflected all of the bullets flying his way with the flat side of his blade. He rushed at Trotsky with a flurry of flying sword slashes, but they were all deflected by the force field he erected around himself. Garfield petitions the government to make traps legally not gay.

"My brain is a vast electrical network! My bones are made of steel! I have _REJECTED_ the weak, mortal body that God gave me, and in doing so I've gained a power even greater than the divine!" Trotsky boasted as he proceeded to pulverize Waluigi. He impaled his fist straight through the plumber's stomach, bringing a swift end to their duel.

Waluigi fell to his knees, gagging on his own blood. Sinking deep into the cold embrace of death, all he could think about were the days of his youth spent learning martial arts. The days he had spent with _Wario,_ the proud daimyō that he once idolized.

* * *

Waluigi stood before the gates to his master's Buddhist monastery, taking in the serene view one, last time. He turned his head and passed under the archway leading to the outside world, leaving his humble village in the mountains for the first time. All Wario could do was shake his head in disappointment.

Wario's yellow kimono fluttered in the wind behind him as he watched Waluigi pass beyond Detroit's border, showing no interest in stopping. He sighed, "Where the hell do you think you're going, my kuso-headed apprentice? There's nothing for you in the outside world. There's a good reason why Detroit is an isolationist country: the Americaverse is a failed nation that's been embroiled in bitter conflict for the past millennium! But within our borders, we are safe and prosperous. Are you really just going to throw away a thousand years of tradition and leave your homeland?"

"I am well aware of America's dire situation, sensei. That's precisely why I must leave this place," Waluigi answered. "Even within our secluded nation, the tales of a man known as the Communist-Hunter have reached our ears. When I first heard about him, I was amazed that such a man could exist! We've grown so complacent from this peace that the very thought of fighting to the death over one's beliefs is alien to us. My dream is to fight by his side and learn what being a patriot truly means. And if he truly needs aid like the rumors claim, I shall be his sword!"

"Wah! Have a rotten day, cunt. If you truly wish to flee from the safety of our borders and live in that fallen world, that's your choice. But understand that no help will come to a rōnin like you! From this day forward, you're a stranger to us!" Wario snapped.

The two prideful samurai parted ways without another word. Waluigi took a deep breath, savoring the air of the outside world as he took his first steps into the unknown. Little did he known, this would be the last time their paths would cross.

Wario paused to wipe the greasy garlic tears from his bulbous nose and mustache. "Waluigi-kun... you goddamn baka. No matter where your journey takes you, I pray for your safety. May my teachings serve you well!"

* * *

Waluigi had to hold his hands to his chest just to keep his organs from spilling out of him as he stood. He removed his sword from its sheath once more, unwilling to yield even in the face of certain death.

"Greater than the divine, you say? Even with all of your vast knowledge, you still don't understand a damn thing about us humans," Waluigi scoffed. "While you may be strong, humanity possesses an inner strength that you could never hope to attain. Struggling is mankind's greatest power! By struggling, we evolve into something greater than what we were before. It's a power that a pitiful man such as yourself that's discarded his humanity in favor of a life free of pain could never comprehend! You can never hope to grasp the knowledge of my _Bushidō,_ degozaru!"

"You must be joking. Do you really intend to come at me again after spouting all that gay shit? What can a walking cadaver such as yourself do against a man-made God like me?" Leon Trotsky asked, a smug simper plastered across his artificial lips.

Waluigi directed his blade to his opponent's throat and chuckled. _"Evolve."_

 _" **Amakakeru Ryū no Hirameki**!" _ Waluigi shouted the name of his killer technique. He placed his left foot forward and swung his sword, slicing effortlessly through his opponent's steel chassis like butter. This detestable cyborg's body parts were sent flying from the sheer force of his attack, scattered about by the gust of wind produced by his swing.

Waluigi coughed blood all over his kimono. He fell to the floor, having already pushed his body well past its limits. The hilt of his sword lay a few feet away from, its blade snapped in two as a result of his finishing move.

 _"H-How—?"_ Trotsky's severed head muttered, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Oil leaked from his shredded neck, pooling into the center of the room and mixing with Waluigi's blood.

"I told you before, didn't I?" Waluigi rasped. "I struggled, and from that struggle I overcame my limits and defeated you. I used my humanity to achieve something an unchanging, unfeeling automaton never could. _Never underestimate a samurai, de gozaru."_

The samurai sighed at the realization that Trotsky's battered remains had already ceased functioning. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the floor, satisfied that he had managed to help Sonic in some small way. Though he'd be lying if he said that he didn't wish that his enemy could have stayed alive just a bit longer to keep him company. Even dying alongside a bitter enemy was preferable to dying alone.

"Wario-dono… wherever you are, I hope that you're well. Looks like I won't be making it back to our humble village after all," Waluigi spoke between his labored breaths. "Please… when this news reaches your ears, don't weep for me. The way of the samurai is also the way of death. As long as I perish making a difference in this cruel world of ours, no matter how small… is that even really dying? Death is only temporary, but dishonor is eternal."

Waluigi's last breath finally escaped from his lips. This honorable warrior fell to the ground with a smile on his face, finally returning to the earth.

The light of the morning sun poured through the stained glass and washed over Waluigi's cold, unmoving figure. His corpse dispersed into 1,488 sakura petals and was blown away by the wind, leaving this world in a manner just as dignified as how he had entered into it. Even in death, this proud samurai was every bit as noble and beautiful as he was while living.

* * *

 **"A warrior is worthless unless he rises above others and stands strong in the midst of a storm." _—_ Yamamoto Tsunetomo**


End file.
